To Dance Again
by Mango Tea
Summary: Draco Malfoy lives the life of a criminal. He is cold and distant from the world. Harry Potter is a dancer and a bit of a daydreamer. Complete opposites, right? But what really lies behind these masks? A chance meeting and their worlds are changed. Slash.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Wow, this is a story I thought I'd never have to deal with again. This is a repost because the original was taken down. Seeing as I no longer have the original documents, I just simply rewrote the story. I don't think it should take too long for the entire story to be finished again seeing as it was already written once before. There will be changes and the writing will be a bit different seeing as my style and writing has improved since the first posting of this over a year ago. All other stories will be on hold until I get this back up again!

So please enjoy the new and improved To Dance Again! I would really like to see all of your reviews agian but I understand if you don't wanna read a story that you might have already read.

* * *

Title: To Dance Again 

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Draco/Harry

Warnings: Language, Violence, Abuse, Slash (male/male material) possibly sexual content.

Beta: None

Disclaimer: I do NOT own anything HP related. That all belongs to JK Rowling!

Chapter One

The night was still; the sky above was inky black and hardly a star was visible through the thick city air. The only sound that was heard was that of cars making their way home for the night off in the distance. The streets were empty save for a group of darkly clad people huddled together off the corner of an alley.

"Do you think the old man is closing up yet?" asked one of them; he was a large boy with muscular arms, wearing a dark brown jacket with its hood pulled up.

"He should be Goyle, everyone else has closed up for the night," replied a smaller dark skinned boy.

"I wish he would hurry the fuck up, it's fucking freezing out here."

"Just shut up all of you." Draco Malfoy, a tall and slender young man, was not in the mood to listen to his friends argue. His was on his wits end with them and his nerves were bouncing all over the place. "You should have brought a jacket Crabbe, you moron."

"I didn't think we'd be standing out here for two whole fucking hours Draco," the larger boy, Crabbe, shot back. Draco just ignored him and turned his attention back to the small dark store just across the street. They had been waiting for a good two hours for the owner to close up; he seemed to be locking up later than the rest of the stores seeing as it was almost midnight.

It was an unusually cold October night; their breaths rose up frosty in front of their faces as they tried to keep themselves warm. Draco had worn a light hoodie that night, not thinking it would be this chilly. He brought the hood over his light blonde hair and breathed into his gloved hands. 'Just hurry up and leave,' he thought in frustration. He wanted to get this done as soon as possible so he could get home to his mother.

"Look!" whispered the dark skinned boy, Blaise Zabini, and pointed across the street. Draco snapped back to attention and looked to where he was pointing. 'Finally,' he thought. The store owner, an elderly and balding man was leaving the front door and locking it with a pair of keys. They listened to the jingling of keys as the man finished locking the door.

Their eyes followed the old man until he turned a corner and walked out of sight. They breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"About damn time," Goyle said. "I can't feel my fucking hands."

"Let's go guys," Draco said and jogged across the street as quietly as he could. He could hear the ragged breathing and quick footsteps of his friends behind him. They grouped around the front door and looked around just in case anyone was out for a late night stroll.

When the coast was clear, Blaise nodded to Draco and Draco took out a crow bar he had taken with him.

"Remember, we have approximately five minutes before the police arrive if that alarm goes off, got that?" The others nodded in understanding.

With that, Draco smashed one of the larger windows open. The sound was deafening as it split through the still and quiet night. Draco couldn't hold back a flinch at all of the noise but did not hesitate as he jumped through the now smashed window. His feet crunched as they landed on shattered pieces of glass on the other side. He heard the others climb in after him.

Something felt off to him as he looked around at the dark store. Then it clicked. It was completely silent.

"Where's the alarm?" Blaise asked the question Draco was thinking. They all shrugged, confused.

"Whatever man, let's just grab the money and get out of here. Remember, don't take anything else. We don't wanna get weighed down by merchandise in case the police come."

'And they probably have some electronic anti-theft device on them that would surely go off if the merchandise left the store,' Draco added in his mind. He quickly hurried over to the cash register on the far side of the small store

He used the crow bar he had used on the window to pry the register open. The silence was suddenly shattered by the ear splitting sound of an alarm going off.

'Fuck, the alarm was attached to the register,' Draco thought as he hurriedly grabbed the money from within. Wasting no time, he ran across the room and they all jumped back out the window. In the distance, they could hear the sound of police sirens coming in their direction. Draco quickly handed Blaise the money; he was the fastest of them and would have the least chance of getting caught.

"Split up," Blaise ordered before he ran off in one direction. The others all took different routes. Draco ended up running full speed down one of the alleys. His feet echoed as they slammed down on the cobbled street. He heard the police sirens; they were close now. He heard some off in the distance as well and he had a gut feeling that they were chasing the others.

'Then that must mean…' Draco's thoughts were cut off as one of the police cars suddenly rounded a corner and flooded him with light. 'Bingo, there it is.'

Draco didn't waste a moment in taking off. He skidded around a corner and ran down another dark alley. His breath was coming in sharp pants and gasps now as he leapt up onto a chain-linked fence and scrambled over it. He heard the police car skid to a stop behind him and the policeman inside get out.

'God damn, I need to quit smoking,' Draco thought as he rounded another corner. He stopped for a moment to catch his breath. He was practically wheezing now. He looked up and listened intently. He could see flashes of red and blue lights as well as that of a flashlight one of the police officers was using to search around.

"He can't have gone far," a deep gruff voice said. "Get back in the car and cut him off. He won't get out of here."

"Yes sir!" A younger voice said, and then he heard the running footsteps as the man went back to the car.

The light from the flashlight illuminated the dark alleyway slightly. Draco waited with baited breath as it drew closer, the police officers careful footsteps crunching on the ground.

And then with a deep inhale Draco darted from his hiding spot and ran faster than he thought he ever could down the street. He heard the man shout and then pursue after him. He was probably in better shape than Draco, because he could feel the officer gaining on him.

"Fucking hell,' Draco thought as he skidded around another corner and stumbled. He fell forward on his palms, scraping them painfully but he quickly regained his footing and continued to run. He saw the police car suddenly appear and he froze in his tracks. He was cornered.

"Freeze!" shouted the officer behind him. He heard the man pull out his gun and Draco was pretty sure it was pointed at him. He rolled his eyes. The man in the police car also got out and upholstered his gun.

'Let's see, two policemen, two guns, one car,' Draco calculated in his head. 'What are the odds I get out of this unscathed?' He looked around. 'Well, only one way to find out.'

With daring he didn't even know he had, Draco did the most foolish thing he decided he had ever done in his life. He dove to the left, trying not to pay attention to the sudden sounds of guns being shot and ran as fast as one could while being hunched over. He dodged around the police car and sprinted down another street.

He heard the squealing of tires as both men jumped back in their car and continued the chase.

Draco hid behind one of the buildings, trying to hold his breath; his lungs burned painfully and his heart thudded against his ribcage as his nerves got the better of him. Adrenaline was still pumping through his veins as he saw the police car zoom past him. Draco slouched against the building wall, trying to regain compsure of himself. He placed a hand over his beating heart and clutched his shirt as he closed his eyes. Turning around, he leaned his forehead against the cool brick wall and let out a string of curses.

"Fuck!" he whispered as he banged his fist against the wall. It scraped against his skin and he felt a slight burning but he didn't pay any mind to it. "That was so fucking close." After finally gaining his wits about him, he straightened himself up and ran a hand through his hair before pulling his hood back over his head; it had fallen off as he dodged around the policemen.

He suddenly crouched down when he saw the police car come down the street again; it was circling the block slowly, flooding the alleyways and streets with lights. He watched as it disappeared down another street again. He waited a few minutes to see if it would return.

Looking around, he stepped from out of the buildings shadow and started walking down the street, looking as natural as one could in such a state.

He heard the sound of the sirens disappear in the distance and he breathed a sigh of relief. 'That was a close one.'

Draco took off in the direction of Blaise's house, which was the agreed spot they would all meet up at in case they were ever split up. He hoped the police wouldn't suddenly turn around and come back down this way. But the sound of the sirens eventually faded in the night and all was silent again.

He made his way down the empty city trying to stick to the shadows as much as possible. It was about a mile to Blaise's house from where he was and he was starting to feel signs of major fatigue. 'Not a big shocker there.'

His mind was filled with thoughts of what had just happened. He couldn't believe what his life had turned into. Ever since his mother had become sick and his father's career had taken a turn for the worst, Draco had found himself the primary income for the family. But the jobs he held alone were not enough to pay the bills; his gang had offered him a way out through a life of crime. Even then, the money brought in through the thefts was barely enough to sustain them. His father's drinking habits were sucking life and money from the family. Anger bubbled throughout Draco's entire being every time he thought of that man.

Before he knew it, Draco found himself in front of Blaise's house. And not a moment too soon; his legs felt like lead and his eyes were becoming heavy. His hair was stuck to his face from sweat and the feel of the chilly night air against his hot and sweaty skin was making him shiver.

He made his way up the steps leading to the front door and knocked twice. He heard movement from within and the door opened a crack. He saw Blaise's head stick out; the boy's eyes landed on Draco and he threw the door open. He quickly ushered Draco inside before slamming the door shut and locking it behind them.

"Draco! There you are, we were getting worried," Blaise said as he led Draco into the living room where the others were waiting.

"Yeah, I had a little trouble. Those policemen were very persistent."

"Good thing you didn't get caught."

"I know; last thing I want is to end up in Juvie again," Draco replied bitterly. He had spent a good year in a Juvenile Detention Center last year for assault and he was not looking to ever go back there again.

"Do you think they saw your face?" Crabbed questioned as Draco sat next to him on the floor where they were all sitting around the coffee table.

"Not likely, I had my hood on and it covers my face pretty well," Draco said. He had escaped the police before and he was certain that he wouldn't get caught this time. The police in this city were really stupid anyway.

"By the way, here's your cut of the cash," Blaise said as he grabbed a small wad of bills and handed it to Draco. Draco counted it quickly before nodding and pocketing it. "You gonna stay here tonight?"

"Yeah, I don't much feel like going home to my slobbering drunk ass father tonight; I just hope mother will be fine without me." Draco knew he had promised to go home that night but he really wanted to stay as far away from his father as humanly possible.

"It's fine, you can crash here as long as you don't make too much noise. My old lady doesn't really like you guys you know."

"Yeah, yeah, we'll be good," Draco said. "Don't wanna get the hag angry now do we?"

Draco, Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle laughed as they settled in for the night.

----

Draco had to face the inevitable though as he walked through the door of his own house the next morning. He hated being there; the only reason he even went back was because of his mother. He couldn't leave her alone with his father; who knew what would happen to her. Draco felt responsible for whatever happened to his mother.

He walked down the hallway of the small, run-down house. The place had been neglected for years; without his mother to clean the place, it had eventually just gathered dust and dirt. Draco tried to keep the place in order as much as he could by doing the laundry and dishes; picking up all of the empty beer cans and bottles that quite often littered the place and cooking meals but none of this made much of a difference. He didn't have time between school, three jobs and his secret night life.

The sight that greeted him when he walked into the living room made his blood boil. His father was lounging on the couch, beer cans surrounding him. A half full bottle was clutched loosely in his hand as the man dozed. The sounds of his snores were the only sound in the house. His greasy long blond hair fell into his face and his clothes were stained with God knew what.

Draco walked across the room, kicking cans along the way making them scatter across the floor and into the kitchen. He tried to ignore the continued snores of the disgusting man just in the other room but he was finding it hard to do.

The kitchen was a mess, as Draco knew it would be. More cans and bottles were scattered everywhere as well as a few broken cups and plates. There were bottles of aspirin emptied out on the counter and the sink was full of dirty dishes.

Draco searched through the cabinets, making sure to open and close them with as much noise as possible. When he found them all empty, he went to the fridge and found that it too was empty.

"God dammit!" Draco yelled as he slammed the door closed. "Do I have to do every God damn thing around here?"

"What're you goin' on about boy!" his father, Lucius, called from the living room with a slight slur to his voice.

"Where's all the fucking food?" Draco yelled back. "Can't you at least go to the goddamn store once in awhile to feed your family you lazy bastard?"

"Don't talk to me that way you inso-insolent little boy," Lucius said as he hiccupped and popped open another beer. Draco rolled his eyes with disgust and grabbed his jacket off the chair and headed out the door without another word.

Shrugging his jacket on, Draco walked down the steps and onto the busy city streets. He jammed his hands in the pockets of his worn out jeans and kept his shoulders slouched as he weaved his way through the crowds of people. The sun was already high and beating down on his neck. Despite the chilliness of the previous night, it was warm that day and his light hoodie suddenly felt too hot.

Ignoring this, Draco fingered the bills in his pocket and headed down to the closest store. He was mentally making a list of all of the things he would need to buy.

'Milk, bread, eggs…and just about every other fucking thing,' he thought as he walked through the electric doors of the market and into the air conditioned store.

He made his way down the aisles, trying to keep a low profile as much as possible. He did not like seeing the looks people gave him as he walked by; they all looked at him the same way. He was a street-rat, a ruffian, a no good trouble making gangster who deserved nothing better than to be shot. That was what he was in their eyes.

He grabbed a cheap loaf of bread, a quart of milk and a dozen eggs, mentally checking off the items in his mind as he did so. He kept track of how much he was spending as he picked out each item. His math skills were surprisingly good seeing as he often had to do a lot of penny-pinching and watching how much he spent.

He continued down the aisles, looking to see if there was anything he missed that he might need. 'Let's see, I think we're low on laundry soap…' he thought over how much money he had left before his thoughts were interrupted by loud, and somewhat obnoxious giggling.

Draco tried to ignore it but the sound was causing him to lose track of what he was doing and with a bit of frustration, he stalked from the aisle to see who was making such an annoying noise. He found it was coming from a group of girls around his age; they were talking about something, which was obviously very funny because they would occasionally burst out into another round of ear splitting giggling.

'Fucking girls,' Draco thought as he glared at them. But then his ears were suddenly filled with another sound, this one much softer and more musical than that of the other girls.

"Come on guys, it wasn't that funny!" said the voice before it laughed too. It was softer but deeper and definitely male. Draco briefly wondered who the voice belonged to before the boy become visible from the center of the group of girls.

He was a curious looking boy; he was small and slender but obviously strong. He could detect hints of subtle muscle in those arms and legs. His hair was dark and messy, like it had never been brushed in its life and his eyes were a very vibrant green. He had never seen such a color for eyes before.

Draco hadn't realized he had been staring until they had looked over in his direction and shot him a glare of mistrust and hate. The boy, however, looked at him with curiosity and sympathy before he was dragged away by the horde of girls.

'Whatever,' Draco thought and shook his head before continuing the rest of his shopping, 'they all can go jump off a cliff for all I care.'

----

Draco carried the bags of groceries back into the house later only to find Lucius passed out on the sofa again. Not feeling like messing around with the man at the moment, Draco was careful not to make any sound that would wake him up. He brought the items into the kitchen and began putting them away. Once he was finished, he carefully folded up the paper bags and placed them in one of the drawers for later use. The family couldn't afford to waste anything.

He then went about making a small meal for himself and his mother. Pouring a half glass of milk to add to the tray of food, he carefully balanced it and walked to his mother's room.

He nudged the door open with his foot; the room was dark and he could just barely make out the form of his mother lying on the bed.

"Are you awake mother?" Draco whispered as he walked farther into the room and placed the tray on the night stand.

"Hi sweetie," came the whispered reply.

"I brought you something to eat, so you can keep up your strength," Draco said as he kneeled down by her.

"You're a darling, you know that?" his mother, Narcissa said as he swept some bangs off of Draco's face. Draco leaned over and kissed her on the cheek before making his leave.

He heaved a large sigh as he closed the door behind him and leaned against it. His mother wasn't going to last much longer, he knew that. Shaking his head, Draco made his way back to the living room, scattering more cans as he did so and grabbed the remote. He flipped on the T.V, which was right in the middle of a news report.

Raising the volume just slightly, Draco watched the woman on TV speak.

"Police are still in search of the suspects in the robbery of a local hardware store. Recent rise in crime in the city is concerning police as investigations of five separate robberies are still in progress. No clues as to who was behind the recent robbery have been found. And now we turn to weather…"

Draco turned off the TV and threw the remote down. The police would soon give up on finding them; he was sure another robbery or crime would arise, causing for attention to turn to it instead. This city was surely going to hell.

Yawning with growing fatigue, Draco made his way to his own room. He lay down on his bed, his eyes itching with tiredness as he stared up at the dark ceiling, thinking about everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. His life was pretty fucked-up and he knew it.

Turning to his side, he closed his eyes and finally succumbed to sleep

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AN: Thank you for reading! Please review with any questions, concerns, praise, feed-back and constructive criticism! 

...Wow I can't believe I'm writing this story again. How very odd! )


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Harry Potter sprinted down the busy sidewalk, dodging people as he went, his duffle bag swinging around as it hung loosely from his shoulder. His worn-out sneakers crunched the dried up leaves that were scattered around on the cement. He shouted apologies as he bumped into innocent pedestrians, trying to get to his destination while continuously cursing to himself for being so late.

Making a sharp turn around a corner and dodging yet another man on his way to lunch, Harry finally saw his destination come into view. Sighing with relief, he sped up until he was at the door of the two-story building. He threw the glass door open and ran up the flight of stairs directly at the entrance to the building. Taking them two at a time, he clutched his bag tightly to his side as he finally made it to the top landing. He tore through another door and skidded to a halt.

"I'm here! I'm here! I'm not late…" Harry looked around, panting as he clutched his side. The other people in the room looked up from their stretches and raised their eyebrows at him. Harry flushed in embarrassment and wiped some sweat from his forehead, relishing the feel of the air-conditioned room after running so long in the heat.

The others in the room laughed at him before going back to their stretches. They were all used to his tardiness by now and often teased him about it. He tried to ignore this most of the time, since it was just in good fun.

Harry straightened himself up and looked around at the room. It was large with polished hard-wood floors; the far wall was a giant mirror the dancers used to watch themselves in; the wall closest to him was blank except for a bar used for practicing with; the wall connected with that one had several large floor length windows that shed beams of light across the floors and provided sufficient lighting for the dancers.

He walked across the room to where he saw his best friend, Hermione Granger, already doing her leg stretches. She grinned up at him when he placed his bag next to hers and joined her. He slipped off his sneakers, finding it more preferable to dance barefooted. He sighed again as his aching toes were freed from the confines of his almost-too-small shoes and touched the cool hard-wood floor.

"Late again Harry?" Hermione asked as she sat up and rolled her shoulders, trying to get all of the kinks out.

"I'm not that late," Harry replied indignantly while doing a set of toe reaches. His back popped uncomfortably as he worked on stretching his body. "Ms. Pince wouldn't let me off until I shelved the latest order of new books." Harry took odd jobs at the local book store for extra cash whenever the store owner, Ms. Pince, needed a helping hand. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

"That's the third time this week," Hermione said as she stood up and re-tied her bushy hair back into a pony-tail. Harry often teased her about it being so thick that it couldn't even stay tied up for very long. This always earned him a nice punch in the arm.

"Well I don't have wonderful loving parents who _drive_ me to practice in their nice, cozy car." Harry's parents had died when Harry was very young and he was left with his only living relatives, Uncle Vernon and his cousin Dudley. He almost laughed at the idea of his whale of an uncle ever doing something as nice as driving him somewhere, especially if it was somewhere Harry _wanted_ to be. It would probably be illegal for his uncle to get behind the wheel of a car anyway, seeing as he was mostly drunk these days.

"You know my parents wouldn't mind picking you up; you're the one who refuses it!" Hermione looked at him and placed her hands on her hips. Harry knew what that meant; she was going to do that motherly thing she always did when she thought Harry was doing something that wasn't good for him. "You never let anyone help you out; it wouldn't be such an inconvenience for them to pick you up, you know. Besides, I don't like the idea of you running here in that heat for every practice.

"Hermioneeee… you're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Fretting. We've gone over this before. I appreciate the offer but it isn't necessary. I get here just fine on my own thank you." Hermione didn't push the matter further and turned her back to him. He watched her dig around in her bag for her water bottle, feeling a bit guilty about being so harsh with her. The truth was, Harry would have loved for Hermione's parents to give him rides, it would definitely mean less foot pain on his part, but he didn't want her parents to see the way he lived; it would only cause for more fretting on Hermione's part and unnecessary concern on the Grangers'.

Harry always appreciated Hermione's looking out for him though, even if it was sometimes a bit much; they had been that way for each other ever since they met at their very first dance practice. Harry had been six and Hermione seven.

_Harry looked up at the large sign that read 'Miss Miranda's Dance Instruction' with wide eyes. He watched as parents and their children all shuffled into the building, chatting and laughing. The sun was setting for the day as children were practically dragging their parents from their cars, telling them to hurry up so they can get to their dance practice. Most were little girls but there were a few scattered boys as well, though some of them did not look very happy about the situation._

_Harry had been out with his uncle and cousin on their way to a parent-teacher conference with Dudley's school. Apparently the large boy was prone to bullying and the teachers found it necessary to take action. Uncle Vernon thought otherwise of course and felt himself obligated to give those 'know-it-all good-for-nothing' teachers a piece of his mind._

_"Boy! What do you think you're doing holding us up like this?" Uncle Vernon seethed as he stalked up to the small boy. Harry paled considerably._

_"S-sorry uncle, I was just reading that sign." Harry pointed up to the sign to prove his point. His uncle's eyes followed his finger before they narrowed rather maliciously._

_"Dancing eh? What kind of boy is interested in dancing? I always knew you were going to be a fruit, boy."_

_Harry's eyebrows scrunched up with confusion at his uncle's words and he bowed his head in shame. He may not have understood the exact meaning of what his uncle had said, but he knew that it couldn't have been anything nice. It never was._

_"Hi there little boy," said a friendly voice. Harry looked up to see a kind looking woman with smiling blue eyes crouching down next to him. "Are you here for the practice?"_

_Harry opened his mouth to reply but his uncle beat him to it:_

_"No he's not. I'm not paying for him to learn some wishy-washy garbage for pansies." The kind woman looked up at his uncle with a frown on her face._

_"Certainly you would agree that it would be good for the boy," another voice cut in, this time a man's. "It's obvious he is interested in dancing, aren't you?" Harry looked up at the man; he looked older than the kind lady, but not by much. He was standing next to a woman with bushy brown hair, who in turn was clutching the hand of a little girl with equally bushy brown hair. The little girl smiled shyly at him, which he returned just as shyly._

_Uncle Vernon spluttered angrily at the man's intrusion on the conversation. It was obvious he was affronted at the nerve of people these days. He was surely about to give the man a piece of his mind._

_"I-I want to learn to dance uncle," Harry interjected timidly. He was afraid of making his uncle angry again, but he really wanted to do this. It seemed like so much fun and the people seemed very nice. _

_"Well there you go then!" the man from before, whom Harry assumed to be the little girl's father, said as he clapped his hands and smiled merrily. "I think that settles this matter, don't you sir?"_

_Uncle Vernon looked beyond angry; his face was a very dark red and the veins on his forehead were popping out dangerously. He was obviously trying to keep his anger in check while out in public._

_"Like I said, I'm not paying for him to learn something as foolish as dancing! He's a boy; he shouldn't be involved in such things anyway. It's unnatural."_

_"Oh, I think something could be worked out," the man answered. He then walked up to the kind lady and spoke directly to her:_

_"Is it too late to sign up this young man for dance lessons?"_

_"No, there are still openings," the woman replied, looking a bit shocked at the exchange she had just witnessed._

_"Good. I'd like to pay for this boy's lessons, if that isn't too much trouble?" _

_"As long as his guardian is alright with this, and is willing to sign the form."_

_Harry looked up at his uncle, feeling his stomach drop to his feet; no way would Vernon ever do something this nice for Harry. _

_"Why should I do such a thing?" uncle Vernon replied nastily._

_"It would be good for the boy, don't you think? It would get him out of the house and offer plenty of exercise."_

_"Get him out of the house eh…?" Harry perked up. His uncle seemed to be thinking it over, obviously weighing the pros and cons of agreeing to such a thing. He finally seemed to come to some sort of conclusion in his mind because he snapped his attention back to the man and the woman._

_"Fine, as long as he," he jabbed his finger that man, "will be paying for all and I mean all, of the boy's lessons and I won't need to do any running around or other things of the sort."_

_"Of course not; I will make sure everything he may need is taken care of."_

_"Fine." Uncle Vernon walked up to the woman as she produced a few forms to be signed. When he was finished, he growled in frustration._

_"Let's go Dudley, we're already late." And with that, he left Harry alone with the four complete strangers, feeling very shocked at what had just transpired._

_"So," the man crouched down in front of Harry and laid a hand on his shoulder. "How about we introduce ourselves? My name is William Granger, this is my wife Jane." Said woman smiled warmly at him, "and my daughter Hermione."_

_Harry flushed as he was introduced to each new face. _

_"And what's your name? Surely it's not 'boy' now is it?"_

_Harry shook his head. "Harry," he whispered._

_"Well Harry, how about we join the others, what do you say?" William smiled down at him. Harry nodded, still feeling a bit shocked, and was led up the stairs alongside the Grangers._

_"You wanna do stretches with me?" Hermione asked him. Harry nodded eagerly, his hair bouncing into his eyes as he did so and accidentally knocking his glasses off. William laughed as he picked them up for him and handed them back._

_"You may want to be more careful with those." Harry thanked him and pocketed his glasses carefully. He waited beside Hermione for the kind woman, who turned out to be Miss Miranda, their dancing instructor, to begin their very first lesson._

Harry pocketed his glasses as he took his favorite spot near the window; it offered a great view of the city and he could see all of the traffic and people walking about as he looked down from the second floor windows. He and Hermione always took that spot for themselves.

He blinked a few times, trying to get used to the sudden blurriness of his surroundings. Harry found it wasn't a very good idea to dance with his glasses on, as they often went flying off during routines. Though it wasn't exactly easy to dance without clear vision, it was a feat he had managed to master through many years of practice and determination. Hermione had once suggested contact lenses, but Harry dismissed that idea. He wouldn't be able to afford it and he didn't want to impose on the Grangers anymore than he already did. He still owed them a great deal for all of the lessons they paid for.

"All right children, get into pairs please," Miss Miranda said as she walked into the room later than usual. Harry smiled in triumph knowing that he had made it here before the teacher, therefore meaning that he was not late.

Miss Miranda set her radio down on one of the wooden benches provided near the door and took off her sweatshirt. She turned to the class with a big smile on her face, her blue eyes sparkling and her dark hair tied up in a tight bun.

"Good news class!" she started off. Everyone in the room grew anxious; usually when Miss Miranda said 'good news' it was followed by a painful and difficult new routine she had thought up. While that was always exciting in its own right, it usually meant at least one of them would be going home with a broken _something._ They all waited with bated breath to see what she had to say this time.

"I was able to get us a spot at the Melodrama Theater for the Christmas performances this November," she continued on. Everyone released the breath they had been holding and started chattering in excitement.

"The bad news," she continued on, successfully silencing the room again. "Not everyone can perform. I will need to pick the best two partner dancers I have."

"Only two? But who will you pick?"

"I haven't decided yet. I will be observing practices very intently to see who is working the hardest and has improved the most. I will let you know of my decision in a week."

Harry looked at Hermione and he could see the excitement dancing around in her eyes. He knew this meant trouble for him; Hermione was a very…enthusiastic partner and loved perfection in every routine they did together. He knew she was going to get one of those spots even if it killed them.

"Now that we've got that out of the way, get into formation people!" Miss Miranda said as she clapped her hands together. "We've got a rough practice today and I'm positive all of you will be feeling it tomorrow." Everyone smiled nervously at this announcement but did as they were told anyway.

---

Harry made his way home that evening, his legs and feet throbbing painfully and his throat stinging from thirst. He had run out of water halfway through the practice and tried, but failed, to wrestle some out of Hermione. Harry had then come to the conclusion that that girl was too strong for her own good.

The heavy pedestrian traffic from earlier that day had died down quite a bit and Harry found it much easier to trek his way home without all of the hustle and bustle. He kept his hands in his jacket pocket and his bag safely secured over his shoulder. He had decided to walk home barefoot that day as well; he didn't think his swollen feet would fit back into his sneakers and he really didn't want to go through with the pain. The sidewalk was, thankfully enough, not very hot that day so it was relatively easy to walk without shoes. All he had to do was watch out for broken shards of glass that often littered the streets on this side of the city.

It was a good mile and a half from the dance studio to his house. Hermione offered to walk with him but he waved it off and told her to go with her parents. She didn't like the thought of him walking through the city alone, but Harry argued that it was broad daylight with plenty of people out. Nothing was going to happen to him. And it wasn't like he was a helpless girl; he knew how to defend himself in case the need to ever arose.

He watched the nameless people pass by in a blur of pressed suits and briefcases, all in a hurry to be somewhere important. Quite a few were blabbering away to the people walking with them, checking their watches, hailing down taxi cabs and generally doing everything faster than necessary. But as he did so, he noticed one particular person who seemed out of place with the rest of the rush; he was moving slower than the others and his clothes weren't neat or pressed, but ragged and worn. His shoulders were hunched over and Harry could make out light blonde hair falling from the hood that was pulled up over the boy's head. He could recognize that hair from anywhere.

It was that boy from the market the other day; the one who had been looking at him in an odd manner. Harry didn't think the boy looked particularly dangerous, but one could never be too sure in a city like this. Just to be on the safe side, Harry quickly crossed to the other side of the street before the boy could notice him.

He watched as the boy walked on from his side of the street. He hadn't noticed Harry; which didn't surprise Harry one bit. The boy's eyes were fixed on the ground, so he doubted the boy noticed anything besides his own feet. Harry turned his head around as he walked so he could continue to watch the boy until he disappeared into the crowd. Shaking his head, he turned back and continued to walk home.

'What a strange kid,' he thought to himself.

---

About fifteen minutes later, Harry found himself unlocking the door to the small, one story house he shared with his uncle and cousin. He shut the door behind him and placed his keys on the table beside the door. Setting his bag down, he looked around and listened for any signs that might indicate that his uncle or cousin might be home.

He heard the low murmuring of the television from the living room, which meant that his cousin was surely in there. Walking as quietly as possible past the living room, Harry made his way down the hallway toward the bathroom. He passed his uncle's bedroom as he did so, noticing that the door was ajar. Peaking inside, he saw his uncle sitting on his bed with his head buried in his hands; he didn't seem to notice the small boy at his door. Harry decided to leave the man alone and backed away quietly.

He walked down to the bathroom, which was the door just opposite to his own room. He closed the door behind him and locked it. Once behind the closed door, he leaned against it and ran a hand through his hair. His uncle had been like that ever since his aunt had died years before; his uncle had lost his job and they moved to this part of the city. It was more dangerous but definitely cheaper. He wasn't exactly sure what his uncle did for most of the day seeing as Harry did anything he could to get out of the house for as long as possible; he had the feeling most of what the man did involved a lot of drinking. The empty brandy bottles everywhere was proof enough of that, as was the fact that the house seemed to be trashed every time Harry came home, as if the man had destroyed the place in a drunken rage. Harry always found it his job to clean up after the man; not that his uncle ever took notice.

Harry pushed himself away from the door and over to the shower; he reached over and turned the hot water knob until steam filled the tiny room. He then went over to the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. Raising a hand, he gingerly prodded his cheek, wincing as it aggravated the hidden bruise. Harry had taken to wearing a little makeup to cover up the bruises he would occasionally get from his uncle's rages. It worked perfectly because neither Hermione nor anyone else ever seemed to notice them.

Harry then pulled off the small faded black shirt he had worn that day, revealing the delicate chain with a tiny angel pendant hanging from it that was hanging around his neck. He fingered the tiny angel as he looked at his reflection; it was the only possession of his of his mother's that he had and he treasured it more than anything else he owned. He had had it ever since he could remember and had never once taken it off.

Pulling off the sweats he had worn that day as well, Harry removed his glasses and stepped into the steaming shower. He let a sigh of pleasure as the heated water rolled across his aching muscles. He rolled his neck around and let the water beat down on his sore body. He didn't care what his uncle or anybody else said. Dancing was not a sissy sport; it required amazing amounts of strength, endurance, agility and determination. It was not for the weak. It also provided Harry with ways to vent out pent up emotions and allowed his mind to be taken up by other things than his troubles for once.

Closing his eyes, he leaned against the shower wall and tried to empty his mind; it seemed to have been working reasonably well until the image of a lone boy walking defeated down the city streets entered his mind. Snapping his eyes open, Harry wondered why he had remembered that boy at that moment of all things.

'I guess he just intrigues me, that's all,' Harry thought as he turned off the water and stepped from the shower, shivering slightly as the cool air met his flushed skin. 'I'll probably never see him again anyway.'

With that, Harry got dressed quickly, not bothering to dry his hair, and went to his bedroom. His body was just begging for a good nights rest and that's what he intended to give it.

He quickly walked across the way to his room and closed the door behind him. His bedroom was the smallest in the house and about the barest too. It only had a single mattress on the floor in the corner to serve as his bed. There was a little window just above the mattress that gave just enough lighting for his room. Harry was thankful that he did not have to spend very many nights in this tiny room; Hermione's house was pretty much his home and he spent most nights there. He came to this house every so often just to make it seem like he actually had a real family to come home to. It wasn't really necessary but he did it anyway.

Crawling onto the small mattress, Harry flexed his arms and then rested them behind his head as he looked out the small window at the few stars visible against the night sky. It wasn't long before he eventually drifted off into a light slumber.

* * *

Author's Note: Hi people! Here's chapter two. I worked all day on it even though I am absolutely exhausted from my trip to Los Angeles for treatments. Remember, I do not have the original documents anymore so I am writing this plot mostly from memory. So, as a result, there will be changes and things that you didn't see in the original TDA. Oddly enough, the chapters ARE longer than the original too. I hope you enjoy that :) 

Creature of the Dark is still on hold; TDA should be easier to finish writing than that story, so I'm gonna finish this first. Though I would appreciate more reviews for Creature of the Dark!

And I am amazed at you guys. Ten reviews for the first chapter of this story? I was floored at your awesomeness. I didn't think I would get that many reviews for a has-been story. Keep it up please! The more reviews I get, the faster I update! I would like to hear any praise, feed-back, con-crit and suggestions!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"Shit," Draco cursed as the tin pan hit the floor with a loud CLANG, causing oil to spill and create a large puddle on the ground. He had been dropping things all day, feeling more distracted that day than usual. He had already been fired from his job at one of the supermarkets for smashing three dozen eggs, dropping a whole case of cranberry juice (which caused glass and juice to fly everywhere) and telling one of the customers to "please shut the fuck up". Deciding that he had had enough, his boss fired him on the spot.

It wasn't like he had meant to do all of those things, Draco had thought in his mind. It just happened. He had come to conclusion that his boss had a stick up his ass and deserved nothing more than to be hit by a bus one day as he leaves work.

Muttering furiously under his breath, Draco bent down and picked up the pan from the floor. He couldn't afford to lose this job too so he really needed to get his head on straight. Wiping his hands on his dirtied mechanics suit, Draco stood up and dumped the now empty pan onto a nearby counter.

"That's the third time today," a man muttered somewhat amusedly from behind Draco. Draco turned around and spotted one of his coworkers, Dave, bent over a car working on its engine. Dave was a greasy looking man with short black hair, a stubbly beard and a face covered in oil smudges. He was at least ten years older than Draco and had a somewhat sarcastic sense of humor.

"No shit," Draco replied bitterly as he worked on cleaning some of the rusty and dirty mechanic tools.

"Something bothering you kid?" Dave asked as he stood up straight and cleaned his hands off on a dirty rag he kept over his shoulder for convenience.

"What the fuck makes you think that?" Draco was not in the mood to talk to anybody, especially not Dave. Dave usually had the tendency to laugh at his misfortunes like they were the funniest thing in the world, and then slap him good-naturedly on the back as if they were old-time buddies. It was one of the many let-downs of working as a mechanic; but Draco knew he couldn't be picky. A job was a job, even if it meant working with idiots like Dave in a dank old place like this.

Bob's Auto-Repair Shop was a small business and the owner, Roger, was an elderly man with a snappish attitude. The shop had actually been named after an old gray cat called Bob that had been hanging around the place even before it was turned into an auto-repair. Roger claims that the cat was there first and therefore should have the place named after it.

Roger had been eager to hire Draco as he was short on workers. It didn't seem to matter to the man that Draco was only sixteen and that he didn't have any sort of experience in the field whatsoever except for some basic knowledge on car-repair. Draco took the job, and in exchange for a few hours of work a week, he got a very (very) small pay.

Draco didn't actually do any of the repairs himself though; he just helped Dave, kept the place clean and looked cars over before telling Dave what needed to be done with them. This technically made the older man his superior, and therefore gave him an excuse to boss Draco around as much as he wanted.

"Well, you're swearing more than usual," Dave said as he grabbed a wrench he had been looking for, "and if that's not sure sign enough that something's up, the fact that you've been dropping more things today than an old lady with a bad grip sure is."

"I just got a lot of things on my mind okay?" Draco shot back a bit more defensively than he had intended. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed and placed the tools back in their respective places. "Sorry, just not in a good mood I guess."

"Well you better not let the boss see you like this or you'll find yourself losing yet another job."

"Don't remind me," Draco said. He looked up at the grimy old clock hanging above the door to the main office, hoping it would be almost time to leave. He had to hold back a groan of frustration when he saw that he still had a good two hours before quitting time.

"And finished," Dave announced as he slammed the hood of the car he had been working on down, successfully snapping Draco out of the spiral of self-pity he was slowly falling into. He slapped the hood a few times and smiled at Draco. "I think I'll go take a quick break, why don't you go and help that customer over there while I'm gone will you?"

Draco nodded as he looked outside and saw a man waiting somewhat impatiently beside his car.

"How may I help you sir?" Draco said in an almost defeated manner as he walked up to the man.

"Yeah hi, I'm a car collector, but this car doesn't run at all; your men towed it here for me and I've been waiting for at least fifteen minutes. I need a complete fix up. Can you do it or not?"

The arrogance and impatience in the man's voice made Draco raise an eyebrow; he was obviously rich and full of himself. But, keeping his cool, he walked up to the car to take a look.

"We're just a simple mechanics shop sir, but we can do what we can," Draco replied as he popped the hood and took a look. It definitely needed a lot repairs; the battery itself looked like it had been corroded away by years of not being used.

"Hmm…it looks like you'll need the rebuilding of the complete power system as well as suspension alignment, servicing of the electrical system and the braking and steering system along with adjustment of the transmission and differentials," he said as he stood up from checking underneath the car. "Among other things." Draco dusted his suit off and looked up at the man. "This car is a mess, why do you want it?"

"Because it's an antique, they don't make these cars anymore." He said this as if he were explaining the most obvious thing in the world to a dumb three year old. "So are you going to take the job?" The man obviously did not think that the blond teenager was up for such a task and was acting as if his time was being wasted by standing there and talking to him.

Draco nodded and sighed. He hated this job with a passion, especially dealing with stuck up customers like this man. Draco waved at the man in the tow truck to move the car into the garage before turning around and telling the customer to wait in the office for Dave to come back and give him the run-down on the cost.

Just as he turned to walk back into the garage, Bob the cat walk across his path and jumped up on a set of tires. It stared at Draco with its yellow eyes as it sat there, swinging its tail back in forth. It was a great ambition of Draco's to give the cat a good kick in the side, but Roger cared about that cat more than his workers and that would defiantly get Draco fired. So, instead, he settled for hissing at it, which it returned before hopping off and trotting away.

'Stupid cat, hope it gets flattened by one of these cars someday.' It was then that Draco couldn't help but start counting the seconds until he could leave this God awful place.

---

When it was finally closing time, it was around Eight O'clock, and being a Saturday night, that meant Draco didn't have school the next morning. Not that that had ever been a big deal, considering he was lucky if he made it to school twice a week. His jobs were very time consuming and very few of his bosses cared if he got an education or not, as long as he did what he was supposed to do.

Draco didn't mind either way. The teachers and students at school all looked at him as if he were going to pull out a gun any second and start shooting up the place. Sometimes he even got the urge to do it, just to shoot those looks off their stupid faces. He held back the urge of course; going to prison for life was not a goal Draco had for himself.

Pulling a cigarette from his pocket, Draco lit it and placed it between his lips. Closing his eyes in bliss as he took a drag from it, he started his walk home. It had been at least a whole day since he had had a cigarette and he assumed that was why he was so shaky and distracted.

Blowing smoke from his lungs, he looked up at the darkening sky. It wasn't wise to be out on the streets when it got dark, especially while alone. Gang members such as himself were often prey to other gangs hanging around, so he was pretty much a walking a target at the moment.

Pulling up his hood and coughing slightly as he exhaled some more smoke, he quickened his pace. It wasn't just rival gangs to be considered while walking alone at night, but also the curfew that was set on the city. Any kid under the age of twenty-one wasn't allowed to roam the streets alone; it was a step taking in hopes of toning down the crime rate. If he was caught by the police, it would most likely just mean trouble for him. Though he wasn't too worried at the moment, curfew wasn't for another two hours.

The sun finally set on the horizon and all that was left was a slight pink and purple tinge on the otherwise dark sky. The sound of cars and barking dogs in the distance was the only thing that kept Draco company on his journey home. He heard some coughing coming from behind some of the buildings, but deciding it was nothing, he paid it no mind.

As Draco continued to walk though, he had noticed a few people appearing out of alleyways and darkened corners. He knew they were following him; he heard the crunching of their shoes against the ground as they formed a group and walked after him. His heart fluttering with nervousness, he took a last drag from his cigarette and flicked it to the ground. Shoving his hands in his jacket pockets, he started walking even faster. He heard laughter from behind him as the people also started speeding up.

'Not good,' Draco thought. Knowing better than to turn around and look or talk to them, he just rounded a corner and tried to fight down the fear that was suddenly filling him up. He knew what would happen to him if he let himself get caught in the hands of the people behind him.

"Hey blondie where you going!"

"Come on we just wanna talk." More laughter.

Draco walked for another block, trying not to listen to the jeering or calling out as the distance between him and the men behind him became shorter and shorter, before deciding it would be best to start running.

"Hey! After him!"

"Yeah don't let him get away!"

He heard the running footsteps of at least six people start after him and he knew he had a big problem. These guys were serious and definitely wanted something from him. Most likely just to beat the shit out of him and take whatever it was he had on him.

Normally, Draco wasn't too afraid of a fight, but taking on six or so people by himself, in the dark, was not a very smart move. And seeing as he had no back up from his own gang, the best he could do was run and hope that he makes it to his house.

But the burning from his lungs and the aching of his legs was telling him he wasn't going to get much farther before they caught up with him. The sounds of the footsteps were already dangerously close. He could almost feel their hot breath on his neck as he rounded another corner.

Blinding light suddenly dominated Draco's sight and he stumbled a bit. Raising his hand to shield his eyes from the light, he squinted and noticed that it was the headlights of a cop car. He couldn't quite decide if he should be relieved or scared at the appearance of the police. Momentarily forgetting the fact that he had been chased for the last three blocks or so, Draco watched as the car pulled up to him and the cop roll down his window.

"Everything alright son?"

"I…er…" Draco looked behind only to see the guys from before backing off and smiling cheekily at him followed by some more laughter.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Draco answered.

"You look a bit shaken up." The police officer was looking him over a bit suspiciously. "You sure everything is okay?"

"Yeah, I was just in a rush to get home that's all. Just got off of work you see."

"Ah, alright then. And you!" The police officer shouted at the group of people in the background. They looked up, their smiles fading from their faces. "You all scram now." They shot Draco a dangerous look before splitting up and disappearing into the night.

Turning back to Draco, he nodded his head and said, "Have a good night," before he too drove off. Breathing a sigh of relief, Draco hurried on home. 'That was close.' He couldn't believe how unbelievably lucky he had just been. He thought he was going to be toast for sure.

---

It only took him another twenty minutes to get home, considering how fast he was walking. The chance of him running into another group of people like that wasn't that unlikely and he really didn't want to press his luck any further that night.

Unlocking the door, Draco walked into his house and was greeted with the usual sight: his father on the couch, the house a mess and the TV blaring unnecessarily loud. Taking off his jacket, he slung it over one of the chairs in the living room, and walked up to his father.

"Get up you drunk bastard," Draco growled as he kicked Lucius in the side. The man grunted and opened his blood-shot eyes.

"What?" he slurred as he sat up and looked around. He didn't seem to really understand where he was at the moment. But as he looked up at the teenager standing next to him, reorganization dawned on him and he grinned nastily.

"I'm home from work, not that you care, and I'd like to get some rest, if you don't mind," Draco replied as he picked up the remote and switched off the television. "But I need to clean up this mess before I do; unless of course, you'd like to get up off your ass and do it yourself for a change."

Lucius stood up somewhat unsteadily and glared down at his son; Lucius was a good four inches taller than Draco, standing at an impressive 6'3, and while this was intimidating in its own right, the fact that the man looked as if he could barely stand straight negated said intimidation.

"What an un-ungrateful and smart-ass son I have," Lucius said as he stumbled a bit toward the bathroom. "Do what you w-want." The man walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. The sound of vomiting and water running into the sink met Draco's ears.

Shaking his head in disgust, Draco began gathering up the cans and bottles on the floor, as well as food wrappers and containers that were there as well. He deposited anything recyclable into a plastic bag to turn in for a small amount of money later. Everything else went into the garbage.

After that, he went into the kitchen and almost choked at the sight of it; there were puddles of vomit and other substances all over the floor; chairs were overturned and dishes were piled at a record high in the sink. Draco, to his horror, even saw a few roaches that were scuttling around on the floor before disappearing into cabinets and underneath the refrigerator.

"Dear God," he said to himself before walking over to the sink. His back was aching and his eyes were itching from tiredness but he knew he had to get this stuff done first. He didn't like the idea of his mother staying in a place like this all day.

"Gone for the day and I come back to the place looking like this," Draco muttered as he filled the sink up with hot water and soap. He gave a frustrated growl when he realized they were out of soap now too. Throwing the empty bottle away, he dipped his hands into the warm water and began the task of scrubbing the pots and pans, and cleaning the plates and glasses.

When that was done, he wiped down the counter, mopped up the floor and set the chairs straight again. He also felt a morbid sense of satisfaction in spraying the few roaches that dared to cross his path with a can of bug spray he found underneath the sink. But he cringed slightly in disgust when he had to pick their shriveled carcasses up and throw them away.

'Normal kids would get allowances for this kind of work,' he thought as he brought out a couple of cans of soup to warm on the stove. 'But I guess I'm not normal am I?'

As Draco turned on the stove, he felt the presence of his father enter the kitchen. Gritting his teeth in annoyance, he tried to ignore the man. Though he found this feat almost impossible seeing as the man was making it his job to get noticed.

"What've you been up to?" Lucius asked him as he took a seat on one of the chairs. In an ordinary family with an ordinary father, this would seem like the start of a normal conversation between a father and a son. But Draco knew better. His father didn't care about what he did. Surely enough, his father had more to say.

"You always come home at night. What you do out there? Up to no good I suppose."

Draco stirred the contents in the pot, his ears ringing but trying his best to keep his cool around his father. He would not let the man get to him. 'Don't rise to his bait. Don't rise to his…'

"Wouldn't be surprised if you're out there whoring yourself to others. Always wondered where you get that extra money. Now that I think about it, that's probably what it is. That would explain it wouldn't it?"

Draco's eyes twitched and he turned off the stove and clutched the edge of the counter until his knuckles turned white. 'Don't rise. Stay calm. Don't rise…'

"Then again, you do take after your mother and she's the biggest whore I've ever met…"

That was all Draco could take. He grabbed the handle of the pot full of steaming hot tomato soup and swung around, dumping it all over his father. The elder man jumped up, howling in pain. Draco watched as his father stumbled around the kitchen, crashing into the chairs and the counter, messing up everything he had just spent the last half-hour cleaning.

"What the fuck!" he screamed as he clutched his face in pain. "You're going to pay for that one you little punk."

"Fuck you asshole," Draco seethed as chucked the pot at the blonde man, narrowly missing his head, and stomped out of the kitchen, feeling satisfaction out of causing that man pain. How dare he say that about his own son and wife?

"Where are you going you little shit!" Lucius raged as he stumbled into the living room still trying to get the tomato soup out of his hair and eyes.

"Away from you!" Draco yelled back as he grabbed his jacket and opened the front door.

"Oh no you don't! You get back here. I'm not letting you get away with that. I'm going to punish you good for that little stunt."

Ignoring his father and not giving a damn about curfew, Draco stepped out, slammed the door shut behind him and walked away from his house. He could still hear the loud cursing of his father from inside the house but he did not care. He was not sorry at all. Pulling his hood up again and pulling out another cigarette, he walked down the deserted sidewalk, the only sound penetrating the night was that of chirping crickets.

'Hope I burned him good,' he thought as he looked up at the sky and smiled, not caring that he would eventually have to go home and face the music. For now, Draco just let his anger ebb away and relished in the feel of knowing he had a one up on that loser.

The only problem was he didn't have anywhere to go for the night. He thought about going to Blaise's but the truth of the matter was, Blaise's mother didn't like Draco or anyone else in their gang. He didn't feel like imposing on them at the moment anyway.

But he had to go somewhere. He couldn't just wander the streets all night; all that would earn him was a night in jail. Taking a few greedy puffs of his cigarette to calm his shaky nerves, Draco decided he would just hole up underneath a slide or on a bench at a local park somewhere. There were always bums hanging around there and doing the same thing.

He checked his watch as he walked down the central shopping center. It was nine-thirty. Every place would be closed up or closing up by now. He was right in thinking so as he looked up and saw the darkened windows of the shops. The only light source came from the street lamps that gave off an orange-ish glow.

He was surprised, however, when he heard the sound of a door opening and laughter coming from across the street. He looked over and saw a small figure standing at the doorway, talking to someone.

"Alright Ms. Pince! I'm heading home now!" came a vaguely familiar voice.

"Okay dear, are you sure you can make it home alright this late? You really didn't have to stay so late for me you know."

"Don't worry about it, I wanted to help. And I'll be fine; just don't tell Hermione, she'll have my head!"

The old woman laughed before answering, "Don't worry, I won't. You get on home now before curfew. Be careful."

"I will. See you tomorrow Ms. Pince." With that, the door was closed and the boy was bathed in darkness. Draco watched as the small figure began walking in his direction. He tried to duck into the shadows so he wouldn't be noticed as the boy came closer. He got a good look at his face when the boy walked underneath one of the street lamps. He almost gasped when he recognized him immediately.

'That kid again!' Draco thought and tried to hold back his anger. He remembered how that kid had crossed the street when he saw Draco walking down the sidewalk. He was obviously afraid of him. He assumed the boy thought that he hadn't noticed it but he had. He noticed most things that went on around him, even if it seemed like he didn't.

'I should give him a real reason to be afraid of me,' he thought as the boy continued to walk closer. He was even prepared to jump out, give him a good scare and maybe even rob him. But his anger faded almost instantly when he saw the saddened look in the boy's green eyes. What did he have to be so sad about? Draco wondered as the boy passed him by without even noticing him. He continued to watch him until he disappeared into the night.

'He looks as if he really doesn't want to be going wherever it is he is going,' Draco pondered. But then shook his head. Whatever it was, it shouldn't be concerning him. He needed to think about himself and where he was going to stay that night. Continuing his quest, Draco repeatedly tried get himself not to think about that boy; but yet, he couldn't help but imagine the small boy with the sad green eyes in his mind throughout the night.

* * *

Author's Note: Now, the only reason you guys are getting this chapter now is because you've all been doing so great in reviewing. So you deserve it! I really do love your reviews so much and I try to reply to all of them but I don't always. I'm sorry to those who I don't get to replying to. 

So, please review some more! I respect those of you who prefer to be silent readers, but those of you who happen to like talking a lot, here's your chance! Send me a review full of your praise, feed-back, constructive-criticism and suggestions. I'd love to hear any and all of it! And remember, as great as getting a review that just says 'update' always is, I do prefer feed back :D

So the next update SHOULD be tomorrow. As some of you may be able to tell, I'm trying to keep the updating pattern I had for the origianl TDA. It's a hard thing to do I tell you, try to keep frequent updates AND make long chapters. Be grateful :D


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Harry shelved the last book on the cart before stepping down from the stool he had been using to reach the higher shelves. He cleaned his hands off on his jeans, slightly disgusted at how neglected and dusty some of the older books were.

Harry had taken it upon himself to rage a personal war on a particularly foreboding section of the store that seemed prone to attracting dust, spiders, cobwebs and the like. This had meant taking down every book individually and cleaning the shelves before placing them all back in order (lest he wished to be horribly maimed by Ms. Pince). It had taken a good two hours to finish but seeing as there wasn't anything else to deal with, it hadn't really mattered.

It was a particularly slow day for the tiny book store; it wasn't that there were always a lot of customers visiting the shop but there definitely seemed to be a record low that day, having only had a hand full of people stop in. Maybe people just weren't interested in books anymore?

So, as a result, Harry was left to his own devices. He ran out of things to do and Ms. Pince had run out of things to _give_ him to do; and not really feeling inclined to leave and go home, he simply took a seat behind the counter that the old cash register rested atop of. Plucking a pen out from one of the drawers, he busied himself by twirling it between his fingers.

Blowing a few strands of hair out of his face, he turned to look out the window. It was a drizzly Sunday morning, the sky was overcast with thick gray clouds, blotting out the sun and covering the city in one giant shadow. Little drops of water fell numerously from the sky and to the ground. It was really a rather dreary sight. But Harry suspected more of this sort of weather would come once summer finally rolls out and fall takes its place.

Tapping his finger on the counter-top, he watched people dressed in rain coats dash around outside with their umbrellas and briefcases over their heads, feet splashing into rain puddles as they did so. He faintly heard the sound of thunder rolling in the distance and wondered briefly if there might be a storm later. Hundreds of tiny water droplets splashed against the windows of the store and Harry's eyes followed their trail as they rolled down the pane of glass.

'Okay, that's it, I'm officially bored out of my mind,' he thought as he shook his head and placed the pen back down. Turning away from the window, he looked up at the clock hanging on the wall. It read 10:13.

'It's going to be a slow day.' He sighed as he rested his chin in the palm of his hand and began staring off into space.

The delicate tingle of the store bells soon cut through Harry's musings though and he looked up, expecting to see a customer. Instead what he saw was a rain-drenched Hermione wearing a pink raincoat. Her hair seemed frizzier than usual and Harry suspected that was thanks to the weather.

"Halfway here and the sky decides to open up on me!" Hermione exclaimed as she pulled off her coat and draped it over her arm. Harry's eyes darted to the window and to his surprise he noticed that while he was off daydreaming, it had begun pouring; heavy sheets of rain were now lashing against the building. 'Well that kills any chance of customers coming here.'

Hermione smiled as she walked up to him, shaking her hair with her hands; he assumed she was trying to dry it out but this only seemed to make it even puffier. "How are you holding up here Harry?"

"Oh just fine; got attacked by quite a few dust bunnies and black widows, but nothing out of the usual really." Hermione raised an eyebrow at him but didn't seem to want to ask.

"Where's Ms. Pince?" she asked instead.

"In the back room taking inventory," Harry answered with a wave of his hand in the general direction of said room.

"Isn't that _your_ job?"

"Yeah, I dunno, maybe she's just being nice or something today. Or maybe she didn't want to deal with the boredom and stole all the fun for herself."

Shaking her head, Hermione leaned against the counter and started messing with a few of the items displayed out on it.

"What are you doing here anyway Hermione? Not exactly the ideal weather to go strolling two miles through just to end up here."

"Well I wanted to check up on you," Hermione answered while inspecting a stack of book marks half-interestedly. "And I also didn't want to miss a chance to take advantage of that discount you get."

Harry rolled his eyes and smiled at Hermione's antics. Because of his work at the shop, Harry got a small discount on any books he wished to purchase himself; he allowed Hermione to use the discount as well considering she read more than he did but she often abused the privilege.

"Well then, be my guest," Harry answered and held his arms wide open, indicating that the store was all hers to explore. She beamed and scurried off to a section on Historical Non-Fiction. This left Harry with nothing to do yet again. He was vaguely aware of the sounds of books being taken off of shelves and pages being turned. Deciding to get up and dust off the display shelf behind him, Harry stood up and stretched slightly.

He was about to grab the duster from underneath the counter when the door opened yet again, the ringing bells catching his attention again. He stood up straight from his bent over position and peered toward the door. His eyes widened when he saw a tall boy with red hair standing at the entrance, his body dripping large amounts of water as he looked around.

Harry's eyes darted in Hermione's direction; he saw that she had noticed the boy enter as well and was trying her best to hide behind the bookcase. She was shaking her head at him furiously with her eyes wide.

Quickly indicating for her to duck down, Harry turned back to the tall boy. The red-head seemed to finally have noticed Harry behind the counter because he turned to him and beamed.

"Harry! Didn't see you there," the boy greeted and walked up to him.

"Hey Ron," Harry said with a nod and a smile as well. Harry wasn't on particularly close terms with the red-head but he knew that Ron took a lot of interest in Hermione. The two had dated for awhile but split apart a couple of months before; ever since then Hermione had been dodging the boy while Ron seemed very keen on seeking the girl out.

"So…" Ron said as he leaned against the counter and looked around a little more intently than was normal. Harry knew he was looking for Hermione.

"Have you seen Hermione around lately?" Ron asked him as he turned to look him in the eye. Ron had very odd pale blue eyes; they sometimes creeped Harry out a bit, especially when they were fixed on him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Hermione ducking down behind one of the shelves and shaking her head again.

"Uh, no," Harry answered, feeling a bit odd about the whole situation. He didn't like when he got caught in the middle of Ron's and Hermione's affairs but he knew he couldn't just leave his best friend out to dry either. "In fact, I haven't seen anyone today. Mostly because of the rain; I don't think many people are stupid enough to go out in that downpour, especially to come all the way out to a bookstore."

Ron's ears turned a bit red at Harry's comment. Harry felt a bit guilty about insulting the boy but he was hoping it would get Ron uncomfortable enough to leave. He didn't want to have to continue being in the middle of this little game of hide and seek Hermione was playing.

"Er, yeah," Ron said as he scratched the back of his head, "but ah you wouldn't mind if I took a look around would you?"

Harry could almost feel Hermione's nervousness as it practically radiated off the girl. He bit the inside of his cheek to try to keep from laughing; this whole thing was completely silly. He couldn't believe how childish Hermione was being; she was usually the level-headed one!

"N-no, not at all," Harry said through his suppressed laughter. Ron looked at him a bit oddly before nodding and walking off to one of the back sections of the shop. Hermione quickly stood up from her hiding spot and hurried over to him. She slapped him in the back of the head harshly.

"You almost blew it Harry!" she whispered harshly. "I swear if he finds me here I'm going to…" but Harry cut her off by placing his hand on top of her head and forcing her down underneath the counter. He smiled brightly when Ron returned from his search of the store, looking a bit disappointed.

"Find what you were looking for?"

"No," Ron said and shook his head. "So you're sure you haven't seen Hermione?"

"Well…" Harry trailed off. This earned him a pinch in the thigh. Hissing and jumping slightly, he tried to regain a normal composure.

"You alright?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, sorry, I think a bug bit me or something," Harry said and waved off Ron's question, hoping to divert the boy. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No, no there isn't. Thanks anyway."

"No problem."

"I'll see you around Harry. And if you see Hermione, will you tell her I was looking for her?"

"Sure thing Ron."

"Thanks. Talk to you later."

"Bye and come back any time!" There was the sound of the door opening, the bells jingling and the door closing before a momentary silence overtook the place. Harry looked down at Hermione who was still crouching on the floor, looking particularly sour. He gave her a big smile.

"Well now, that was fun wasn't it?" he said. "By the way, I'm supposed to tell you that Ron was looking for you."

"Shut up!" Hermione growled and jumped up, immediately commencing in whacking Harry to death over the head.

"Ow, ow, ow, Hermione stop! I was just kidding!" Harry tried desperately to protect his poor abused head from the savage girl.

"You…foul…boy…" Hermione ranted between each whack, "you…almost…let…him…FIND ME."

"I don't get you!" Harry yelled as he jumped and ran for cover, putting a safe distance between him and Hermione. "Why don't you just tell him to back off jeez, instead of putting yourself through this and ME in the middle of it?"

Hermione's cheeks turned a bit pink and she ceased her attack on the cowering boy. She ran her hands through her hair and sighed.

"Sorry Harry, I guess I'm just having trouble letting him go as well," Hermione answered, blushing even more.

"Then why do you hide from him?"

"Because I don't know if I want to get back together with him either."

"Why not?"

"I don't know; I guess it's just complicated. You wouldn't understand Harry; you've never been in a relationship before."

"As true as that may be, I don't see what's stopping you from being with a guy who is obviously in love with you."

Hermione's head snapped up and she looked at him in confusion. Her mouth silently formed the word "love" as if she were unused to hearing it. They were cut off from their conversation, however, by the sound of footsteps coming from the back room and a door opening.

"What's going on out here? I heard some yelling," came Ms. Pince's voice. They turned to look at the aging woman. "Is everything alright?"

"Everything's fine Ms. Pince," Harry replied. "Hermione's here, that's all."

"Oh, hi dear," Ms. Pince said as she spotted the girl standing in the room. "Here to take a look at the new order of books that just came in?"

Hermione seemed like she was in a bit of a daze and had to snap herself out of it. It took her a moment to register the woman's question.

"Oh…OH! Yeah, yeah, I was," Hermione nodded vigorously. She smiled brightly and walked over to where Ms. Pince was standing and waiting to show her the new collection of recently published novels.

Harry watched his friend with silent contemplation. He knew there was something more to this whole Ron situation and he felt determined to find out what it was. He didn't think he could put up with Hermione's foolish behavior for very much longer. It was driving him mad.

----

After about twenty minutes of scanning over several novels, Hermione finally picked out the ones she wanted and took them up to the register to pay for. She grinned broadly as Harry added the discount to the purchase and held out her hand as he finished bagging the items for her.

"Well I do believe you have that all in order," Ms. Pince said as she turned to Harry. "Dear, why don't you go on and leave for the day?"

"But I still have a few more hours before…"

"Oh don't worry about it! I can handle it from here. It's an awful slow day, I doubt anybody is going to come shopping for books today."

"Well if you're sure…"

"Of course, go on home. Be careful though and wrap up nice and warm so you don't catch a cold in that dreadful rain."

Harry and Hermione grabbed their coats and pulled them on as they waved goodbye to Ms. Pince on their way out the door. The rain was still coming down heavily and Harry had the feeling they were going to be drenched to the bone walking home in this.

"Er…do you think we could call your parents Hermione?" Harry asked her as they stared at the downpour.

"Oh c'mon it's just a little rain, we'll be fine," Hermione said, all the while a devilish glint was forming within her eyes.

"Oh no, I know what that look means," Harry said while shaking his head. "You're nuts."

"Why, are you chicken? It's only two and a half miles from here to my house, you can do it easily."

"Yeah, when there aren't gallons of water being dumped down on me!"

"Come on Harry, we'll get there faster this way. It's just a little jog in the rain, no harm in that."

"Just a little jog in the rain? Hah, Hermione I know you; you'll turn this into a full out race."

Hermione just grinned as she pulled off her coat and tied the arms of it around her waist. She pulled her hair back into a bushy pony-tail and began doing a few stretches.

"There's no getting out of this is there?" Harry groaned and began pulling off his own jacket and tying it around himself. He shivered as the cold air penetrated the light long-sleeved shirt he was wearing.

"Nope!" Hermione shook her hands and Harry could tell she was cold too; but he doubted something like that would cause her to back out. That girl was notorious for being extremely competitive. Harry wouldn't put it past her to push him in front of a bus if it meant winning.

"Ready?"

"As ready as I'm gonna be I guess," Harry said and stood at the ready. He turned his head to Hermione and she gave a cheeky wink before focusing her sight ahead of her.

"And…GO!"

And they were off. Harry was soaked through the moment he stepped out from the protection of the building. His shirt instantly stuck to his shivering frame and his shoes were sloshing uncomfortably as water filled them.

Hermione had an instant lead; Harry could make out her back just a few feet in front of him, but it was blurred by the heavy rain and from the fogging up of his glasses. Shaking some sopping hair from his face, Harry took off his glasses and pocketed them hurriedly, all the while keeping a steady pace after Hermione.

Inhaling a breath of icy air, Harry gave out a burst of speed and caught up to Hermione. His heart was beating wildly against his chest and the rain continued to beat down on him mercilessly, but yet he had never felt more alive than he did at the moment. The adrenaline pumping through his veins gave him a form of exhilaration he normally only got from dancing. He felt good, he felt happy.

Laughing light-heartedly, Harry surpassed Hermione, grinning at her as he did so. He didn't miss the look Hermione gave him as he did so. He heard the sloshing of her shoes as they splashed through muddy puddles on the streets as she ran behind him. Her breath was coming in long even pants as her hot breath tickled the back of his neck. She was trying hard to regain the lead.

His clothes feeling heavier every second and his breath coming out in puffs of frost in front of him, Harry dodged around a pole on the sidewalk. He was sure they had already run almost a mile. His lungs were burning and his body was chilled to the bone; he hoped they would get to Hermione's house soon. Shivering from both the cold and the excitement, Harry grinned and gave another burst of speed, putting more distance between him and the girl running behind him.

Leaping from the sidewalk and onto the street, he gave not but a seconds look before crossing the street. Cars honked as he dodged around them; he heard people shouting angrily behind him but he paid them no mind as he continued to run at full pace.

Lengthening his strides as much as he could, Harry spared a glance behind him and saw Hermione closing the distance between them again. She had a look of pure concentration on her face as she sprinted to catch up. Her bushy pony tail was sopping wet and swinging around her face as her feet pounded against the wet sidewalk.

Harry knew his lead in the race wasn't going to last long; soon, Hermione's second wind kicked in and she pulled ahead. She waved at him as she passed by him before jogging right in front of him. He knew she was trying to block his path so he couldn't pass her again.

"Well, what are you doing slow poke!" Hermione called behind her, her voice faint against the roaring of the wind in Harry's ears and the slapping of the rain against the earth. "Getting tired already? We're almost there!"

"You wish!" Harry yelled back, even though he knew it was true; his legs were burning with strain as he tried to keep up the agonizing pace and his lungs felt ready to burst at any moment. Filling his nostrils with the fresh, rain-scented air and letting it out in one long even breath, Harry tried to block out everything around him. It was just him and the sound of his beating heart in his ears.

'Concentrate, don't let Hermione beat you this time, she'll never let you live it down,' Harry told himself. Just as Hermione's house came into view, Harry pushed his last ounce of energy and powered out the last few yards of the race. Pulling into the lead at the last moment, Harry couldn't help but feel elation at finally winning against Hermione.

Giving a triumphant but somewhat broken yell, Harry came to a stop just before the steps of the Grangers' house. Wheezing and resting his hands on his hips, he tried to regain his breath. His face was flushed and hot despite the cold weather; his clothes were stuck to his skin uncomfortably and his shoes were filled to the brim with water.

"Well, how was that Hermione? Who's the slow poke now?" He gasped out and looked up at the girl. He noticed the green t-shirt she had worn was also stuck to her body. Her hair was matted down against her head and her cheeks were a faint pink due to exertion. All of that only added to the look of defeat on Hermione's face.

"Alright, so you won this one. Don't think I'll let it happen again," Hermione said as she wiped sweat and water from her forehead.

"Always the sore loser," Harry commented as he stood straight and coughed. He sniffed and wiped his nose as it began running slightly. "Let's go inside, we look stupid standing out in the rain like this; as if running two and a half miles in the rain wasn't stupid enough already that is."

They walked up the steps leading up to the house together, still slightly out of breath and both considerably frozen over.

Hermione unlocked the door to the house and stepped inside. Harry was instantly hit with a blast of warm air and the smell of home-made cooking coming from the kitchen.

"Mum, dad, I'm home! Harry's here too," Hermione called as she pulled off the coat from around her waist and hung it up by the door. Harry couldn't help but notice the fact that they were both making huge puddles of water on the floor and felt embarrassed by it.

"In the kitchen!" Hermione's dad called. They both treaded across the living room and through the entrance to the kitchen where Mr. Granger was standing over a stove and stirring a pot of what looked like gravy. He looked at them both and smiled. "Hi Harry, how are you today. And boy don't you two look wet. Did you go swimming today?"

"In our clothes dad? No, it's pouring outside if you haven't noticed. We decided to jog home."

"I hope you don't get sick," Mr. Granger replied as he shook his head. "Sometimes I wonder about you Hermione."

"Where's mum?" Hermione asked as she pulled off her shoes and held them in her hands.

"She's having a bit of a lie down right now. And you two better go get changed and clean up that mess you made before she wakes up and skins you both alive."

Hermione grabbed Harry's arm and quickly dragged him back through the living room and down the hallway leading to her room. Harry simply let himself be man-handled by his friend; he was used to it by now.

Pushing the door open to her bedroom, Hermione pushed him inside and shut the door.

"Strip!" she ordered.

"Uh Hermione, I don't have any clothes with me and I don't uh feel really…comfortable taking my clothes off in front of you."

"Oh don't be a big baby. I think I have something that might fit you. So unless you wanna stay in those wet clothes and piss off my mum, you'll do as I tell you."

Suddenly feeling a bit light-headed and fighting down the cough that was tingling to come out, Harry peeled the soaked shirt from his torso and threw it to the ground. He flushed slightly at being exposed like that. Hermione had seen him without his shirt before but that never stopped it from being embarrassing each time.

"Nice ribs," Hermione commented teasingly before she turned and searched through one of the drawers in her dresser. She rummaged around for a few moments before pulling out a pair of dark blue sweats and a white t-shirt.

"These should be fine," she said as she tossed them to him. She turned back and pulled out her own set of fresh clothing before walking across the room. "I'll go to the bathroom to change so you can have some privacy."

Harry was just pulling on the shirt when Hermione stopped in her tracks and her eyes fixated on a spot just above his hip.

"What's that?" she asked and suddenly crossed the room.

"Uh what?" Harry asked, his heart skipping a beat as he pulled his shirt down quickly.

"Don't 'uh what' me Harry," Hermione said sternly as she yanked the shirt back up and gasped. Standing out against the pale skin of Harry's side was a dark purple-ish bruise. "How did this happen?"

Harry winced when Hermione gently touched the bruise with her finger and sighed in relief when she stopped, having noticed it was hurting him.

"Uhm, I guess it must have happened during practice," Harry said with a shrug and pulling the shirt back down. "Don't worry about it."

Hermione gave him a steady gaze before nodding and turning to head out of the room. Harry sighed again when the door shut softly behind her.

Pulling off the soaking pants as well, Harry pulled on the warm and soft sweats Hermione had given him. While the shirt was a bit snug around the shoulders, the sweatpants were loose around his waist and, as Hermione was about two inches taller than him, they were also a little long. But they worked fine and were comfortable so he didn't complain. Gathering up his wet clothes, Harry walked out of the room and into the hallway where he saw Hermione standing while drying her hair with a towel.

"You can put those in the hamper in the bathroom; mum will wash them for us." Harry nodded and did so.

They made a quick job of cleaning up the water and mud they had tracked all over the house before walking back into the kitchen. They found Mr. Granger setting up cups and plates while Mrs. Granger sat at the table sipping a cup of hot tea.

Mrs. Granger smiled warmly at them and stood up to give Harry a hug. Mrs. Granger was six months pregnant and Harry couldn't help but feel a bit odd at the sensation of having her bulging stomach rubbing against him. But nonetheless, he enjoyed the sentiment and relaxed.

"Harry, so good to see you. How are you?" She led him over to the table to sit down and chat.

"I'm fine thanks Mrs. Granger," Harry replied but couldn't help letting out a sneeze that caused him to jerk quite a bit.

"Oh dear, are you coming down with something?" Mrs. Granger placed a hand on his forehead and frowned.

"No fever yet but I don't want to take any chances. I'll make you a nice hot cup of tea and some soup then it's off to bed with you. You can stay the night here."

"I don't want to cause any trouble…" Even after years of practically living with the Grangers', Harry felt as if he shouldn't be there, trying to meld in with their family and impose on their hospitality.

"Oh don't even think that Harry! You're like family and you know that."

Harry smiled and nodded, grateful but also unsure of how to react to all of the motherly attention he was receiving. It was true though; the Grangers were like his family, more so than the Dursley's ever were.

With those thoughts in his mind, he couldn't help but smile as he watched the family together; Mrs. Granger fretting over him and urging him to drink his tea and eat his soup; Hermione and Mr. Granger talking to each other as a father and his child should while they sat down to lunch together. And the fact that he was sitting there with them and experiencing the family life along with them made him feel accepted. And happy. Like he actually belonged.

* * *

Author's Note: Wow, I've been working on this chapter since about eight in the morning. It's one thirty in the morning right now. Sorry if this was a somewhat tedious chapter to get through; but now we have both the basics of Harry's and Draco's lives down. Now we can move on with the story. Who knows, they may even actually have a valid meet in the next chapter. You'll just have to read to find out. And I also introduced Ron into the story! He may or may not become a major character. He might just be kind of secondary and shows up once in awhile. 

Sorry about the delay in the chapter! Took me longer to write this than I thought it would. But please review! You guys are still doing wonderfully with it and I hope to see even more reviews from my beloved readers. I always love to see what you have to say :D


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

The sky was a dark steely gray; the chilly wind rustled the dying leaves of the trees surrounding the grounds. The smell of rain hung in the air as the students walking up to the school breathed in the fresh scent. It had been awhile since they had last been able to breathe freely from the usually overwhelming smoggy city air. But seeing as the sky looked about ready to unleash another downpour of icy rain, the students didn't have long to relish in it as they all scurried up the stone steps of the two story building.

One lone student however did not seem in a particular hurry to step through the double-doors of the school he despised; Draco Malfoy stood just outside the gate that opened up to the walkway leading to the building. The breeze ruffled his blonde hair as he blew out a puff of gray smoke from between his lips. He gazed up at the sinister looking sky as he raised the cigarette to his lips again.

'Another Monday to slug my way through,' he thought bitterly as he checked his watch and smoothed down the uniform shirt he hadn't had time to iron. It wasn't that he really cared what he looked like, but he didn't feel like getting sent to the Dean's office for not dressing properly again.

Flicking some ashes to the ground and coughing slightly, Draco scuffed his shoe against the side walk and adjusted the bag on his shoulder. Deciding it was time to head in before he was late and stamping out the cigarette he had thrown to the ground, he entered the gates leading into the school grounds.

Monday's were one of the few days that he didn't have work, unless of course one of his employers decided to call up on him last minute, so he spent those days at school; he found this much preferable to spending it in the company of his father. His teachers always frowned whenever he walked into their classes; they probably did not like the fact that he seemed to think he could come and go as he pleased.

This was the case once again as he walked he walked through the semi-crowdie halls and into his first class of the day. The instructor, Ms. Whitfield, looked up from the papers she was sorting out to give him a nice unwelcoming glare.

'Jeez, aren't teachers supposed to be happy that kids come to their class?' Draco thought as he took a seat next to a particularly big girl he didn't even know. He preferred not to try and make friends with anyone else other than those he already knew at the school; it was easier that way. It was odd though seeing as a lot of kids seemed to know him, even though he hardly ever had the slightest clue as to who any of them were.

Taking out a pen and a spiral notebook from his bag, Draco jotted down a few notes on the lesson the teacher was giving them about some novel they were supposed to have read. Sighing and tapping his pen quietly against the desk, he stared out one of the windows of the classroom; he could spot a few birds soaring against the gray sky, moving freely back and forth from their nests hidden somewhere in the trees. He briefly wondered what it would be like to be a bird before dismissing that as a stupid daydream.

"Mr. Malfoy, would you care to join the rest of the class," Ms. Whitfield snapped, causing Draco to jerk up from the slouch he had been sliding into as he sat, "or do you find yourself so above learning that you decide not to pay attention even when you _are _here?"

Draco just stared at her blankly, not liking the way she was intentionally trying to embarrass him. He wondered what always had her so tightly wound up; he decided she must come to school every day with a giant pole up her ass. It was the only logical explanation.

"Well?" she pressed. The whole class was looking at him by now, waiting to see what response he would give. He was notorious for giving smart-ass answers to teachers and being sent out of the classroom more times than anyone else. They were all just waiting for it to happen again.

"No ma'am," Draco answered, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. He didn't feel like giving them the satisfaction that day.

"No what?"

Draco clenched his fists underneath his desk and gritted his teeth to keep from lashing out at the woman. Why couldn't she just let it go? She knew exactly what he meant.

"No I don't think I'm above learning," he clarified.

"Then please pay attention and turn your book to page fifty-seven with the rest of us."

Exhaling as loudly as he dared, Draco did as the teacher instructed but soon found himself staring out the window again. He figured he brought all of this stuff on himself, acting the way he did and doing the things he does, but he wished people would look at him without contempt once in awhile.

---

Breathing a huge sigh of relief, Draco stepped outside to the back grounds of the school for lunch break. It had been a tedious first half of the day and he dreaded the fact that he had another half to get through after this.

'I wonder if it's a coincidence that Monday sounds like mundane,' he thought, all the while considering just hopping the fence and going somewhere else for the rest of the afternoon. It's not like anyone would miss him here.

Walking across the springy, wet grass to his usual spot underneath the big oak tree he noticed that he was one of the only students outside at that time. Everyone else was seeking shelter inside from the biting wind and the general dampness of the campus. He couldn't blame them.

The grass made a squishing noise as his sneakers made contact with it and he felt a few drops of water hit his cheeks every once in awhile. It seemed as if the sky was trying to rain but couldn't quite get there.

The school had quite a spacious campus; it had plenty of trees that provided shade and shelter from the long hot days and lustrous green grass to sit on during breaks. It didn't seem like a school like that should belong in a city like this; it was too well kept and clean. Nearing his destination, Draco couldn't wait to be able to sit down under his tree and think some things over, hopefully cool off from the frustrating day he had had so far.

However, Draco was quite surprised to see someone else was already sitting in his spot upon arrival. He saw a hunched over figure staring off into the distance with his head turned away from him; he noticed that whoever it was, they were toying with something around their neck.

Feeling the all too familiar annoyance bubbling up inside of him, Draco stalked over prepared to tell that kid to get lost.

"Hey! What do you think you're…?" The boy turned to look up at him and Draco had to take a step backward in shock.

"You again!" he spluttered. Why did he keep running into this boy? There sat the small boy from the market, the same boy he had seen walking home that night he slept on the streets; his black hair was as messy as it had been the other few times he had seen him, his pale cheeks were flushed red from the cold and his green eyes looked up at him with confusion.

"Excuse me?" the kid asked as he wrapped his coat around him tighter. He was obviously not pleased at Draco's sudden appearance and his rude attitude on top of that.

"What are you doing? Stalking me?" Draco folded his arms across his chest and glared down at him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," the kid replied with a frown on his face.

"I'm talking about the fact that I keep seeing you around all of a sudden, and that you are sitting in my spot."

"How is that my fault? I live in this city and go to this school too, so the chances are you'll run into me sometimes," the green-eyed boy replied. "And I didn't know this was your "spot"; I figured I could sit anywhere I wanted."

"Well you're wrong; and if you've always gone to this school how come I've never seen you around before?"

"How should I know? Maybe you just weren't paying attention. Besides, I've heard about you. You only come to school when you feel like it."

The vein in Draco's temple throbbed threateningly as a headache started to form. Who was this kid and why was he being so annoying? Why couldn't he just run away from him like everyone else did?

"You don't know the first thing about that, so don't talk about things you don't understand."

"Well excuse me for not understanding," the boy snapped and stood up. "What's your problem anyway?"

"You are."

"What? I was just sitting here minding my own business when you came up and started this. You know what, never mind, I don't feel like fighting with someone like you. I'll just leave and get out of your hair."

Draco watched as the boy roughly snatched up his book bag, swung it around his shoulder and began walking off. Feeling suddenly guilty about the whole situation, he reached out and stopped the boy by grabbing his arm.

The black-haired boy looked up at him with confusion and tried to shrug the hand off his arm.

"What?" he spat.

"I'm sorry," Draco said.

"Huh?"

"I said…I was sorry…for being rude and everything," he repeated, though with a little force. He hated repeating himself.

"Oh…um…you're forgiven then. Um, my name's Harry by the way, Harry Potter." Draco released the boy, Harry's, arm and looked down at him. Harry looked tense with the whole situation but seemed to be trying to be friendly. He reached out his hand toward Draco to shake with.

"Erm, Draco Malfoy," he said and took Harry's smaller hand in his. After a brief shake of the arm, they let go and stood in awkward silence together. It was only broken by the sudden loud coughing of the boy beside him. Draco looked at the small boy as his frame shook with the harsh coughs. Panting slightly, Harry sniffed and looked up apologetically. Draco wondered if he was sick. It wouldn't surprise him with the way the weather was being.

"I guess I should just go now, break is almost over anyway," Harry said as he adjusted the strap of his bag on his arm. "And I think it's going to start raining any second, so maybe you should go inside too?" The trees groaned and creaked from the wind in the background and the clouds overhead were swirling in a mass of black and gray clouds.

"Yeah, but I'm gonna stay out here for a little while longer to have a quick smoke," Draco said and waved his arm. "Before the bell rings that is."

Harry looked briefly disgusted at the mention of smoking, but appeared to not want to start another situation. He just smiled and nodded instead.

"Alright, um it was nice to meet you, Draco."

Harry walked passed Draco and back up to the school. Draco watched him for a few moments before leaning against the oak tree and pulling out his almost empty pack of cigarettes. He had been running low for awhile and tried to make the last ones last for as long as they could; he didn't want to become like his father, wasting money away on things like beer and cigarettes. He hated the fact that he spent any money at all on his habit but he found it was extremely hard to stop. And his nerves were shot enough as it was without adding quitting smoking to it.

The first thought in his mind as he lit his cigarette was 'what the hell was that?' He wasn't sure what just happened, but he knew that he had been very rude to the kid and then apologized for it. He hardly ever apologized for anything, especially for being rude.

Draco figured he just felt bad about being harsh with someone who didn't really do anything. Shrugging his shoulders, he crushed the cigarette against the bark of the tree and shoved his cold and numb hands into his pockets.

'Whatever,' he thought as he entered back through the doors of the school.

---

Just as the weather had been promising all day, the rain finally came down in a violent onslaught of icy water, howling wind and loud claps of thunder, and every once in awhile the world would illuminate with a brief flash of lightning. Kids were ducking underneath umbrellas and book bags as they made a dash from the school to their cars. There were a few unfortunates who needed to walk home, and Draco Malfoy happened to be one of them.

Walking down the slippery steps of the school, he pulled up the hood of his jacket and ducked against the rain. His body shivered involuntarily as the wind swirled around him. The rain felt like needles as it hit his numb face, occasionally getting into his eyes and stinging them.

Just as Draco got to the front gate, he saw a group of darkly clad people leaning against it, waiting for someone. Walking closer, their forms became clearer and he recognized them as Blaise and the other members of his gang. There were five of them standing there, each varying in size. The smallest of them had dark skin and had the most menacing aura over the others.

"Blaise," Draco greeted as he stopped in front of them. "What are you guys doing here?" Draco knew Blaise and the others had dropped out of school awhile ago, saying that it was pointless and a waste of time. They often tried to get Draco to do the same thing but for reasons even he didn't quite understand, he had refused.

"We haven't seen you in a few days and we were getting worried," Blaise said. "And we've found a new place that we can hit tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Yeah, it's just a little electronics store in the downtown shopping district."

"Do you think that's a good idea, I mean the weather is shit today." The wind whistled and another clap of thunder sounded, making it a bit hard to hear what was being said.

"Are you chickening out on us Draco?" Blaise asked harshly.

"No…no, I'm not. I'm in alright?"

"Good, meet us at the usual spot at eight tonight." Draco nodded showing his understanding before the others turned around and hurried off down the street. Shaking water from his sopping bangs, Draco walked down the sidewalk, wanting to get home as soon as possible. As he did so, he saw off in the distance Harry Potter standing in the rain, waiting for someone. He kept his eyes on the boy as he continued to walk until he saw a girl with extremely bushy hair run up and greet him. They looked as if they were talking about something for a few moments before a car pulled up to them. They both got into the car and then just like that they were gone.

Securing his bag safely, Draco broke into a run down the wet and slippery street, rain still beating down mercilessly upon him.

---

Just as they had agreed, Draco met the others on the corner of a street by the old Ice House. The rain had let up in the time that had passed since school had let out, but the streets were damp and the sidewalks had numerous puddles on them. The only sound other than that of the dripping of water from trees and buildings was that of the occasional groaning of the wind and very low rumbles of thunder.

"Hey," he greeted them as he joined the group. They all nodded at him. "When about do you think we should head in?"

"I think the owner is closing up already…yeah, look," Blaise said and nodded in the direction about a block down from where they were standing. They could just make out a tall and dark figure locking up a store. They waiting patiently for the person to get into their vehicle and drive away. The car passed them by and the driver seemed to not have noticed them; the tires splashed through a puddle on the street as it drove by and when the last sounds of the engine faded away, they made their move.

"How are we gonna get in this time?" Draco asked when they crossed the street and stopped in front of the small building.

"Follow me," Blaise said. He walked around to the back of the store and stopped, waiting for the others. When they all gathered around him, they waited for Blaise to start speaking again.

"I was watching this district for awhile, seeing what store would be the best picking, and I noticed that while all of the other places are pretty tightly secured, this one has one weakness."

He then walked up to a window at the back of the store.

"Give me a boost," he ordered Crabbe, who was the tallest and biggest of them. Crabbe walked over and bent down so Blaise could set his feet in his hands. He then hoisted the smaller boy up. Blaise reached toward the window and began unfastening some screws and took down the screen covering the window.

"When I was checking out the backs of the stores for any openings, I noticed that the owner never locks this window." He then proceeded to open up said window using his gloved hands with ease. "And we're in."

"Wow, I never thought a store owner could be so stupid."

"Maybe he just forgets about it," Draco offered. The others shrugged, uncaring. Blaise placed his hands on the window edge for leverage and carefully brought his leg over through the window.

"It's okay, there are some boxes we can climb down on," he called down to them and then hopped from the window. They heard him land on something and then some shuffling around before Goyle decided to go next. Crabbe had a bit of trouble seeing as Goyle was bigger and heavier than Blaise, but he too went through the window. Nott followed soon after and then it was Draco's turn.

"It looks like you two should stay out here and keep watch," Draco said to Crabbe and Macnair. They nodded and lifted Draco through the window. He jumped from the window effortless onto a big crate on the other side. Climbing from it noiselessly, Draco looked around for the others. The room was dark and cramped; it seemed to be the storage room because there were many boxes and crates piled around every corner and against every wall.

He saw another that stood ajar on the other side of the room and he quickly crossed over to it. He heard some footsteps from the other side and some whispering.

He walked out and saw the dark shadows of the others moving around the store. He could just barely make out the items lined neatly up on shelves or stacked on tables.

He saw Blaise quickly walk over to the cash register and pop it open. They all seemed to freeze for a millisecond, waiting to see if the alarm was going to go off. After all that met them was a ringing silence, they heaved a collective sigh of relief. He heard Blaise grabbing money from the register and stuffing it into his pockets. He slammed the drawer shut again and began walking back to them.

"Let's get outta here, Crabbe and Macnair are waiting outside," Draco said them, feeling a bit more than nervous about everything.

They all froze however when the sound of police sirens cut through the night and red and blue flashing lights could be seen through the windows of the dark store.

"Shit, it had one of those sensor alarms instead," Blaise growled. "Quick, get back to the window!"

They all ran back to the storage room and took turns scrambling up the large crate and over the window. They saw Crabbe and Macnair waiting for them anxiously. Blaise was the first to hop down followed by Draco then Goyle and Nott.

Once they were all over the other side, they panted and wasted no time in splitting up and dashing away. Blaise and Nott took one street while Goyle and Crabbe took another. Draco and Macnair ran down one of the adjoining alleyways. They heard the shouts of policemen for them to freeze, but paying them no mind they kept running. The wind bit at their already numb bodies as they heard the sound of squealing tires and police sirens following them.

They ran for about a block before the street they were running down opened up to another one. One of the police cars rounded a corner and the headlights flooded on them. Covering his face, Draco turned and ran. He could hear the ragged breath of Macnair behind him.

Draco leapt over a particularly deep puddle, not daring to run through it but it seemed Macnair did not notice it. With a strangled yell, the larger boy slipped in the water and went down. Draco skidded to a halt and turned to see him lying on the ground. Making to go and help him up, Draco was stopped when two police cars came speeding towards them. With an apologetic look, he turned and ran, leaving the boy behind.

He could hear Macnair struggling to get up, and just as he rounded a corner, he heard the police officers yelling at him to stop and then tackling the boy to the ground. Feeling guilty but not stopping, Draco continued to run; a drizzle of rain began as he did so, plastering his hair to his head. He was careful not to step into any puddles, even though this was made hard due to the fact that it was currently raining.

He continued for another three blocks before he could go no further. He stopped and leaned on his knees to catch his breath. He heard the faint sound of sirens in the distance but it seemed they were heading away from him.

He felt hands on his arm and he turned around sharply, expecting a police officer, but instead came face to face with Blaise.

"You got away," Blaise said. "Where's Macnair?"

"They got him," Draco said, still panting as he shook his head. "I couldn't help him."

"What?"

"Fucking hell," Draco raged as he kicked one of the walls. "They got him and now he's going to rat on the rest of us. I just know he is; we're so fucking caught Blaise."

"Calm the fuck down Draco, dammit," Blaise said. Draco only punched the wall of the building, trying to vent out all of his anger and some of the guilt he felt.

"I knew this shit wasn't a good idea," Draco said as he turned to face the other boys.

"Shut up for a second!" Blaise yelled. "Macnair isn't going to fucking rat on us because we know him better than that. He won't tell, we're safe okay, so just calm the hell down."

"It's my fault he got caught," Draco whispered, running a hand over his face in frustration. "He fell, I could've helped him up but I decided to save my own sorry ass."

"Which is what you should have done, it's not your fault; if it's anybody's, it's his for falling."

"Yeah, every man for himself," Nott agreed. "If you would have helped, then both of you would've gotten caught. It's better that you bailed on him than end up in jail."

Draco stood silently chewing on the inside of his cheek and wishing he had a cigarette on him.

"Okay look, we all gotta just calm down and lay low for the night. We shouldn't all be in the same place, just in case. So let's all go to our separate houses this time," Blaise told them. He then reached into his pocket and began dividing up the money they had gotten from the store.

After giving them each their cut, they all split up again, each heading to their own separate houses.

Sticking to the shadows as the light drizzle let up once again, Draco's mind was racing a mile a second with everything that had just happened.

'I hope to God Macnair doesn't tell the police about the rest of us,' he thought as he turned a corner and started walking down his neighborhood. 'I don't want to go back to Juvie.'

---

The first thing Draco did when he got to his house was go to his room. He shut the door behind him and flicked on the desk lamp. He then roughly pulled open the drawer to the desk and rummaged around until he found what he was looking for; pulling out the pack of cigarettes from inside, he pulled one out with shaking hands. Noticing he only had two left after that one, he threw it back into the desk and shut the drawer.

Fumbling around for his lighter in his pocket, he lit it and took a long drag from it. Releasing it with a shaky breath and a cough, he secured it between his lips and quickly peeled his wet shirt from his body. Throwing it the ground, he walked over to his closet and opened the door; standing on his toes, he reached up and pulled down an old shoe box. He opened up the lid and dug around in his pockets before producing his damp roll of money.

Counting it out, he placed half in the shoe box where he kept his miniscule savings and then placed the other half underneath his mattress where he kept the rest of his money.

Yanking a dry shirt from the hangers in the closet, he pulled the cigarette from his mouth and put the shirt on.

Flicking some ashes to the ground without care, he began pacing back and forth; his shoes made a squishing sound as he realized they were wet and he still had them on. Not caring, he continued his pacing, constantly inhaling from his cigarette.

"Fuck, fuck, god dammit." He couldn't believe one of them was caught. He kicked the side of his bed for good measure before sitting heavily down on it.

"Blaise is right, I need to calm the fuck down," he said to himself as his foot throbbed from the abuse. Finding it hard to get his anger to go away, Draco banged his hand on the bedside table, which caused something to fall over and crash to the floor.

Placing the cigarette in his mouth again, he bent over and picked up the picture frame from the floor. Turning it over, he saw that it was an old photo of him, his mother and his father together at a local fair when he was very young. He noticed that the head of his father in the photo had been ripped out. He remembered doing that.

Placing the photo face down on the table again, he crushed the cigarette on the desk and threw it into the waste-basket.

He laid down on his bed, the springs creaking from his weight and he kicked off his shoes. They fell to the floor with a couple of dull 'clunks'. He didn't think he would be able to get to sleep that night, not with everything that was flooding his mind. He decided to just lay awake, cussing to himself as he stared up at the ceiling and listening to the on and off rain throughout the night. He would just have to see what the morning would bring.

* * *

Author's Note: AHHHH finally! This took me literally ALL DAY. I can't believe it. My mind is on melt down mode right now, so I hope to freaking God that the ending made as much sense to you as it does to my muddled brain.

Anyway, sooooooo they finally met! Yay. I know, I know it wasn't the all "awww how fluffy and cute" kinda meet but uh I hope this will suffice for now. Please tell me what you thought!

By the way this chapter is dedicated to **DeadSeven** for their offer to have my children XD as well as being an awesome snuggle-buddy! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

And of course, thank you sooo much to everyone who read and reviewed! You all hold a special place in my heart, just know that! Special special thanks to everyone who has reviewed EVERY chapter thus far :) You rock and keep them coming!


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The sound of music blared from a passing car as Harry once again raced the clock to dance practice. His head was throbbing painfully and his vision swam; he tried to blink it away but it seemed persistent. Trying to ignore those things he swerved around a woman with her three children and burst through the door. Stopping for a moment at the base of the stairs, Harry leaned a hand against the wall to catch his breath. The room swam around him but shaking his head, he climbed the stairs as fast as he could.

Feeling his energy decreasing rapidly, he opened the door with shaky hands and stepped inside. He opened his mouth to announce his arrival but all that came out was a series of harsh, rattling coughs.

Everyone looked up from their spots to look at him; no one laughed as they watched him stumble across the room. He wiped his clammy forehead with his hand and sniffed as he set his bag down next to Hermione's.

"Hey Hermione," he wheezed out.

"Gods Harry, you look awful," she said as she stood up and looked at him with concern. "You're all pale and you're shaking! Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah just a little cold I think," Harry said waving it off as he coughed again. "Don't worry about it."

"Maybe you should sit out practice today," Hermione said as she placed a hand on his forehead. "I think you have a fever."

"I'm just hot from running all the way here," Harry said, moving his head away from her hand. "Besides we need to practice or we'll never get one of those spots!"

Hermione licked her lips; Harry could almost see the inner conflict going on in her mind. On one hand, she really wanted to get that spot, but on the other she was extremely worried about her friend.

"I know but…"

"Hermiooonneee, please, don't fret again," Harry said, forcing his voice to sound normal and hoping he didn't appear to be shaking as much as he felt he was. "Besides, it's already going away, see?"

Hermione looked him over with a doubtful eye but then nodded. "Alright, but if you die, you're dragging your own sorry corpse outta here."

Harry laughed, which proved not to be a very good idea. Holding down the coughs that threatened to come up, he bent over and began doing his stretches before the instructor showed up.

Harry was in the process of stretching one of his legs when the whole room tilted. Stumbling a bit, he had to stop and control the sudden dizziness as well as the labored breathing he was experiencing. He gave a quick glance in Hermione's direction to see if she had noticed, but she had her back turned to him.

Standing up right and trying to appear as if nothing happened, he continued with the rest of his stretches.

"Okay kiddies, you know the drill, get into formation," Ms. Miranda announced as she bustled into the room. She set the radio down in its usual spot and started taking off her coat and gloves. "This weather is awful don't you agree?"

The others nodded in agreement; it had been dreary for three days straight and they found themselves almost missing the hot summer days. Harry in particular hated the weather; he was finding it hard to get better when he had to continuously go out in the chilly weather.

"Now, before we start, I want to tell you all a few things," Ms. Miranda said as she walked in front of the class. "The week will be coming to an end quite fast and I know you've all been working very hard; I've been watching all of you closely and from what I have seen from our past practices, I've decided to narrow down the pairs to the four best here. And, by the end of the week I will know which two pairs I will pick out of those four."

The others looked at each other. Which four are going to be the ones she chooses?

"So once the pairs know that they have been chosen, I want to see them working extra hard. The dance studio will be open to them for practices at any time throughout the week."

"So who are the groups?" a girl from the back of the room voiced the question they were all asking in their minds. Harry, despite the fatigue he was experiencing, was especially attentive. He could practically feel Hermione tense beside him. Nervousness and excitement rolled off of her in waves.

Ms. Miranda smiled at them. "I won't be telling you until after practice!" Everyone in the room groaned with impatience. "Instead of whining, how about we get started eh?"

Ms. Miranda went over to the little radio she had brought with her and popped in a cassette and turned up the volume. The room was suddenly filled with music as everyone got into position.

"I want to see the routine we've been working on," she informed them. "I want to see how you handle it on your own."

Harry blinked a few times, feeling very sluggish. He felt Hermione grab his arm and force him into place.

"Focus Harry, come on, don't screw this up!" Harry looked at her with blurry eyes and nodded. And so they began. Hermione kept trying to lead Harry, especially since Harry kept stumbling out of the turns and spins along with doing the wrong steps.

"No, no Harry, you're doing it all wrong," Hermione snapped as she took his shoulder and led him through the proper steps. His throat stung with a wave of coughs that wanted to come out; suppressing them once again, he tried to focus on what Hermione was saying. It all sounded fuzzy to him, like as if he was listening to an old radio that couldn't work right. He worked on trying to comprehend what she was saying as he forced his legs to move, even though they felt as if they weighed a ton each. His back was aching as he went through some of the more difficult moves.

When it came to the time in the routine where Harry had to lift Hermione, his arms strained with the effort and his legs shook. Another wave of nausea hit him and he stumbled backwards into the wall. He dropped Hermione to the floor as he fell and hit the polished wood hard. His shoulder erupted in pain and the coughs that had been begging to be released finally came out roughly as they tore at his throat.

The music stopped as did everyone else. They all turned to look at the pair on the floor. Hermione was rubbing her elbow as she sat on the floor. Harry was trying to get off his sore shoulder as the coughs continued to come.

Ms. Miranda hurried over to the two of them to see if they were alright.

"Alright, alright shake it off, it's no big deal," she said to them as she helped Hermione to her feet and then went over to bend down next to Harry. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he rasped out. "Sorry about that."

"Just get up and try it again," Ms. Miranda said as she helped Harry to his feet and checked him over. "You're shaking dear, are you sure you're alright?"

"I…I think I have a cold or something so I'm not feeling too well, but I can handle it."

Ms. Miranda reached out a hand and felt his forehead and cheeks like Hermione had earlier.

"You feel hot and you look flushed, maybe you and Hermione should sit out the rest of the practice."

Harry looked over to Hermione and he could see the disappointment in her face, but there was concern in her eyes as well.

"I…"

"Don't argue; you know me well enough by now that I don't deal with any arguing in my studio. Now sit," she ordered as she pointed over to the benches against the wall on the other side of the room.

Harry shot Hermione an apologetic look and walked over to the bench and sat down. His breathing was still coming out in short gasps as he rested his aching head in his hands. He was also aware of the dull pain in his shoulder but decided not to pay any attention to it.

Hermione sat next to him with a sigh as she rested her chin in her hand. Music reverberated off the walls as the practice started once again. They watched the others move around the floor; some did so gracefully while others did with their own share of stumbling and falling.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered. "I didn't mean to drop you. Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine," Hermione answered as she looked at him. "I'm just concerned about you, that's all. You've been sick for three days straight now."

"It'll pass, it's just the cold or flu or something."

"Yeah, I guess."

They fell into silence as they watched the other dancers; Harry would occasionally cough and Hermione would make a comment or two about the dancers, but other than that, they sat quietly until the practice was over.

"Alright class," Ms. Miranda said as she turned off the music. "That was great! You're all improving tremendously. Keep working at it. Now, for the part you've all been anxiously waiting for."

Everyone perked up at this and anxiety filled the room once more.

"Take a seat everyone and I will call the names of the pairs that I have chosen." The dancers either sat on the benches or on the floor as they practically bounced with excitement. Harry was feeling on the edge; he wondered if that disastrous attempt at the routine was going to ruin their chances of being chosen.

"First pair I have chosen is Lavender and Dean," she called. The two stood, beaming happily as everyone in the room clapped for them.

"Second are Parvati and Seamus." They repeated the action the first pair did and then sat back down.

"Third pair is Harry and Hermione." Harry's eyes widened as Hermione practically jumped out of her seat and dragged him with her. She hugged him excitedly. "We did it Harry," she practically squealed. They sat back down and the clapping died down for the last pair to be called.

"And last is Angelina and Thomas," the stood up and took a bow. Harry and Hermione clapped for them and couldn't keep the big smiles from their faces. The other three pairs chosen were all very good too so they knew they'd have to work their butts off to get one of the two spots.

"Everyone else, work hard and better luck next time! Now, for the pairs I called, will you please see me after everyone else is gone?"

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, as did the other groups. What more could she have to tell them? They stood up and started packing their stuff together, waiting until the last person left the room. When the door finally shut and it was just the four pairs left with their instructor, they all walked up to her and waited.

"Now, what I want from you four," she began as she smiled, "is for each pair to come up with a small, one-minute routine by the end of the week. After I have seen and judged them, they will help me decide which two pairs I want to perform."

Harry's heart jumped; by the end of the week? That was three days away.

"I know it's a bit of a tight squeeze, but I'm sure all of you can do it in the time given. Good luck and you may leave."

Feeling exhausted beyond belief and happy to finally get out of there, Harry picked up his bag and headed down the stairs with Hermione.

"Three days. Boy I hope we can come up with something really good in that time."

"It won't be too difficult," Harry said as he rubbed his forehead. The damn headache just wouldn't go away.

"I hope you get better really fast because we can't exactly practice if you're sick!"

"I'm not weak Hermione; I can practice even if I'm sick."

"Oh yeah and today was a perfect example of that."

"Don't be so sarcastic; I'm…" Harry swayed a bit on the spot as they stepped out the door and the cold air slapped him the face, "…fine."

"Alright, but don't think I'm gonna go easy on you, I'm going to work your ass off."

"Oh I believe that," Harry replied with a grin, or was it a grimace? "Where are your parents, aren't they picking you up?"

"Oh, dad's staying late at work today and mum's been really tired lately from her pregnancy and all, so I told her we'd just walk home. But we can't take any detours; I told her we'd be home before six."

"They don't mind that I come over then?"

"Since when have they ever minded that, Harry?"

"Good point." They started their trek home, the wind rustling their hair and the occasional leaf would get stuck in Hermione's bushy locks, causing Harry to laugh at her in amusement. Of course, this earned him a punch in the shoulder.

"Ow, ow watch it Hermione, I'm injured enough there already," Harry reminded her as he rubbed his arm.

"Well don't make fun," she replied as she picked out yet another leaf from her hair. It was definitely fall now; the trees were almost bare, seeing as most of the leaves were on the sidewalks and sitting in piles in the gutters. The wind would pick them up and blow them every which way, landing on cars and buildings decoratively.

Harry's heart hammered against his chest as they walked the distance to Hermione's house. God why wouldn't his heart stop beating so fast? And every time he breathed in, his lungs would make a strange rattling and crackling noise. He hated being sick; especially when it happened at the worst possible times ever.

Wrapping his arms around himself, he walked beside Hermione quietly. He didn't trust himself to talk at the moment. When they reached the house, they walked up the steps together and Hermione took out her keys to unlock the door with. Harry enjoyed the warmth of the house as they stepped inside and took off their coats and gloves.

"I'm gonna go see if mum's awake," Hermione answered. "You can go watch TV or something if you want."

Harry nodded and walked into the living room. He went over and switched on the television before sitting down on the couch. The evening news was on and the newscaster was in the middle of announcing the latest robbery.

"…one suspected had already been apprehended at the scene of the crime; no evidence as to who the other robbers are has been uncovered. Police are currently trying to get information out of the suspect in custody but have received no new evidence…"

Harry laid his back on the couch and turned the volume up slightly as the woman on the TV continued her report.

"Store owners, however, are voicing their concern at the crime rate, which has doubled since last October, and are demanding better police security throughout the city; Chief of Police is trying his best to assuage the fears of the people but…"

Harry got up and turned off the television. The sound of it was jarring his head and making it hurt even more. Going back to the couch, he laid face down on it and groaned into the cushion.

Just as he was about to drift off to sleep, he felt someone moving his legs and then sitting down on the sofa beside him. He lifted his head and turned it to see Hermione staring at him.

"Whaaat?" Harry complained as he turned over on his back and faced her, placing his feet on her lap.

"I spoke to mum and told her about us being chosen and she's totally excited about it. She wanted me to tell you 'congratulations' for her."

"Oh, yeah, thanks," Harry replied, his stomach doing somersaults.

"And that dad should be home any minute." Harry nodded and closed his eyes. As if right on cue though the door burst open and they heard the sounds of footsteps in the hallways.

"Oh hello Harry," Mr. Granger greeted as he walked into the living room and set his briefcase down by the couch. "Did you guys have a good day?"

"Yeah, guess what! Guess what dad," Hermione said as she jumped off the couch.

"I dunno; what?"

"Harry and I got chosen as one of the four pairs that will be competing for a place in the Christmas performances!"

"That's great Hermione," Mr. Granger said while beaming happily for his daughter. "I bet you're awfully excited about that; I think this calls for a celebration don't you? How about we all go out to dinner tonight?"

"Yeah! What do you say Harry?"

Harry looked up at them; he did not feel like going out, nor did he feel very hungry but he saw the happy look on Hermione's face and couldn't refuse. He gave a weak grin and nodded.

"I'll go get ready!" Hermione ran from the room and left Mr. Granger and Harry alone together.

"So how have you been Harry?" the man asked as he loosened the tie from around his neck and looked down at the boy.

"Not…bad," Harry answered lamely. "Guess I'm feeling a bit tired though."

"Oh? Well would you prefer not to go out tonight then?"

"No, no it's fine, I can go," Harry assured. "I probably just overworked myself."

"Ah, I see, well don't push yourself too hard," Mr. Granger replied as he patted Harry on the shoulder and walked into the kitchen. "Why don't you go get ready as well?" He called.

Harry stood up a bit tiredly and walked down the hall to Hermione's room. He knocked on the closed door and waited for her to answer.

"Come in," she called from inside. Harry turned the knob and opened the door. The bright colors of Hermione's room hit Harry's eyes hard and jarred his senses a bit. He had always liked her room; the pale yellow walls, the soft bed and the paintings hanging around the room, they would always cheer him up if he was feeling down. But today he couldn't work up the energy to appreciate it.

Hermione was already dressed and just finishing trying to brush her hair when she turned to him.

"Mum has some of your clothes freshly laundered; they're on my bed," she said. Harry looked over at a small pile of neatly folded clothes on Hermione's light blue comforter. He went over and sorted through them; picking out the cleanest and nicest shirt as well as the least ratty pair of jeans there, he went across the hall to the bathroom to change.

Once inside, he pulled off the dirty and sweaty shirt he had been wearing. He placed it in the hamper and stared at his reflection. He always hated how skinny he was; his ribs and hipbones poked out sharply from his flesh. The bruises on his body were fading but he winced as he turned to check out the bruise on his shoulder. It covered his entire shoulder and was already purpling quite hideously.

Looking away from his reflection he picked up the black polo-shirt and put it on. Then he put on the pair of faded jeans and placed his shoes back on.

After straightening up, the room started spinning again and he leaned against the sink, head bent over. His necklace dangled from his neck and he reached out a hand to it.

'I wish you were here mum,' he thought as he traced a finger around the little angel. 'You'd know how to make me better.'

Turning on the faucet, he splashed cold water on his face, hoping to get the room to stop spinning and maybe get his headache to go away. He picked up the bar of soap and began scrubbing his face clean from sweat. Feeling slightly better and more refreshed, he turned off the water and dried his face.

Running a hand through his hair as a last effort to tame it, he walked out the door and back into the living room where the whole Granger family was waiting for him.

"There you are Harry!" Mrs. Granger said as she struggled a little to stand up. Mr. Granger gave her a helping hand and once she was on her feet, she went over to give Harry a hug. He accepted it gratefully and rested his head on her shoulder, sighing. He just wanted to lie down and go to sleep.

"Congratulations dear, we're so happy for you two," she said as she held him at arms length. "Are we ready to go then?"

Harry nodded and they all gathered up their things and headed out the door. The sun was already setting and a few stars were appearing in the sky. They walked down the steps and down to the old car parked at the curb. Mr. Granger held open the door to his car for his wife while Harry and Hermione climbed into the back.

"So where are we going dad?" Hermione asked curiously as Mr. Granger sat in the driver's seat and turned on the car.

"I thought we'd go to a nice little Italian place, what do you think?"

"Sounds good to me," Hermione replied with a grin. Mr. Granger pulled away from the curb and started to drive down the street. Harry rested his forehead against the glass of the window and watched as the ground beneath disappeared underneath the tires of the car.

He stared at the people walking down the streets; women hanging onto their mans arm as they headed for a night out on the town, women pushing and shoving their children in a hurry to get home before it got too dark, and scantily clad teenaged girls applying lip gloss as they waited for their dates were the usual for the night life scene. They all passed by in a blur as the car speeded down the blocks.

He wished he could be in a better mood and get into the spirit of going out like everyone else but his body and mind just didn't agree with him. He tuned out the lighthearted conversations the family was having together, rubbing his temples as he closed his eyes.

The drive seemed endless and every bump that they hit caused Harry's head to split and his chest constrict in pain. Everything seemed so far away as he relished the darkness.

"Harry, wake up, we're here," he heard someone say as they shook his shoulder. The darkness faded away as Harry opened his eyes.

'When did I fall asleep? I don't remember.' He turned and saw it was Hermione who had been shaking him.

"Oh, okay, thanks."

As Mr. Granger pulled into a space in the parking lot, Harry looked up at the restaurant. It wasn't overly impressive, but it was a nice little place that served good food for a decent price. There were couples and families heading inside the front door, chattering away and having a good time.

"Alright, let's go," Mr. Granger said and opened his door. The others followed suit and stepped out into the bitter cold night. They walked up to the restaurant together, Mr. Granger occasionally pointing up at the clear sky, talking about the different constellations and names of stars he knew. Apparently he was an avid studier of astronomy in his college days. Hermione listened intently but Harry couldn't work up the energy to care.

They had a little wait inside before they were finally seated by a smiling lady. They all sat around the table, taking the menus that were handed to them. They thanked her and she walked away.

They all looked at their menus, occasionally commenting and asking each other about what they wanted. Finally, their waiter showed up.

"Hi, my name is Draco, and I'll be your waiter today," a slightly bored voice cut through Harry's fog. Harry looked up tiredly, recognizing that voice from somewhere; his eyes widened when they landed on the blonde boy from school. He was standing there looking at them in his waiter's uniform, holding a notepad and a pen.

"Draco?" He asked a bit groggily. Draco looked down at him and surprise was written all over his face.

"Er…hey…um… Harry, right?" Harry nodded.

"So you work here?" he asked.

"Yeah, nights on Tuesdays and Thursdays," Draco answered. "So can I get you guys anything to drink?"

"Lemonade for me please," Mrs. Granger said.

"I'll take some tea."

"Diet cola."

"Just water thanks," Harry rasped out. His throat felt extremely dry. Draco jotted this all down and left to get their drinks.

"So you know him?" Hermione asked, looking at him with an eyebrow raised in interest.

"Not…really," he answered. "Just in passing actually, he goes to our school."

"Oh, that's nice. Perhaps you should introduce him to Hermione; I think it would be nice for her to get out and meet more boys," Mrs. Granger commented lightly as she flipped through the menu.

"Muuuuum," Hermione whined. "I keep telling you, I'm not interested in meeting any guys right now."

"Is it because of that Ron boy?"

"What? No!"

"I'm just saying you shouldn't be shy about it if you like him sweetheart."

"I don't like him! So stop saying that I do!"

Harry chuckled lightly at the conversation he was only half paying attention to. He let the bickering mother and daughter fade into the background, only paying attention to the thumping of his heart against his chest and the rattling of his lungs every time he took a breath.

He jumped slightly when a glass of water was set in front of him. He looked up and smiled in thanks at Draco. He picked up the glass, took out the lemon wedge in it and downed it. It felt like he was swallowing glass as the water slid down his throat but he gulped it down greedily nonetheless.

Placing the glass down on the table, he felt his stomach churning uncomfortably.

"Are you alright Harry?" Mrs. Granger asked. "You're looking quite ill." Everyone at the table and Draco included turned to look at him.

"Uh…yeah," he said as he flushed. "I think I'll just go…go to the restroom really quick."

Harry stood up shakily and gripped the table for support. He must have stood up too fast because the world tilted dangerously and a string of racking coughs hit his body.

"Harry!"

"Is everything okay?"

"What's going on?"

Everything seemed so distant and fuzzy to his ears. He grabbed the table as he doubled over, sending cups and plates crashing to the ground. There was some screaming and the sound of footsteps hurrying in his direction. He opened his mouth to say something but that was all it took for his nauseous stomach to finally release everything, causing him to vomit all over the floor.

The last thing he remembered was someone yelling his name, the floor coming awfully close to his face and a pair of strong arms wrapping themselves around his waist before the whole world went black.

* * *

Author's Note: Dun dun dun. Well here's the chapter. I think this might be my last fast update; I'm considering slowing down my updates to maybe once every two days or so. I'm not sure. I'll stick to the fast updates if I get enough of you protesting the idea :P I'm very easy to persuade and I'm a people pleaser; I want the happiest readers in the world!

And this chapter is dedicated to **thrnbrooke** for being an awesome reviewer and reviewing every chapter of almost all of my stories since I joined this site. You're awesome, keep it up!

Review with any praise, suggestions, feedback, problems or questions! I'll be happy to hear any and all of it!


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Draco Malfoy lay on his back on top of an old pick-up truck, a cigarette dangling from his lips and his eyes closed, trying to block any thought that dared to enter his mind. It was a blustery day; the clouds were nothing but a swirling mass of gray and white and trees were stripped bare of their last leaves. And while it was not raining, the frostiness to the air made up for it.

"Draco, get up and hand me that drill will you?" a voice cut through Draco's peace of mind. He opened his eyes slowly and reality came for a visit. He turned his head and saw Dave working on an old rusty car, clothes and face covered in grease and oil as usual.

"Yeah," he replied as he tossed his cigarette to the ground and hopped off the car.

"Hey, be careful with those, don't want them to land in a gas puddle," Dave warned as Draco went over to the tool table and picked out the instrument he had asked for.

"Chill out old man, I'm not gonna set the place on fire."

Draco walked over to him and handed him the drill; leaning on the car a little, he watched as Dave worked. It was another boring Wednesday, and he was stuck in the little auto-repair shop once again with nothing to do except have staring contests with Bob the cat.

It was a slow day for the shop, slower than usual that is, and Draco found himself thinking, musing, staring off into space, daydreaming and contemplating a lot. Usually, his life schedule took up so much of his time that he didn't have spare moments to do things like that; but now that he did, he found himself not liking it one bit.

The most constant thought in his mind at the moment was the situation with Macnair. So far it seemed that the boy had not cracked; from the snippets Draco had caught on the evening news, the police had no new evidence about that particular robbery. And it relieved him even more to see that several more related crime activities had taken up the spotlight. Police were in a frenzied panic trying to deal with all of recent robberies, assaults, kidnappings and murders.

Draco did not like the fact that he had played a part in the downward spiral that the city was going into. He didn't like that he had to live every day in fear that the police would come bursting through his door and arrest him. He couldn't let that happen; his mother needed him.

Speaking of his mother…

"Hey Dave, can I quit early today, my mother needs me to take her to the clinic for her checkup."

"Huh?" Dave stood up straight, accidentally dropping a screwdriver to the ground. Bob the cat, frightened from the noise, darted underneath the old pick-up Draco had been laying on earlier. "Uh, yeah, yeah sure; I think I can handle the rest and close up shop for the day myself."

"Thanks." Draco set down the tools he had been messing with and waved by to Dave as he headed out. He walked down the streets somewhat quicker than he usually did, seeing as he actually had somewhere he needed to be this time.

Patting his jacket in search for another cigarette, he found that he had smoked his last one that day. Sighing, he placed his hands in his pockets and continued walking. He'd make a quick stop at the local convenience store and buy a new pack on his way.

Usually, Draco kept his head down while he walked; he didn't want to force himself to endure looking at people as they walked by but today he decided to take notice of his surroundings.

There were kids running around the streets barefoot, despite the cold weather; they were playing ball games together and having foot races while they left their younger siblings to scream and cry as they got left behind. Mothers were yelling from inside their houses for their kids to be careful or to play nice with their younger brother or sister. Of course this fell to deaf ears on the young ones as they ran out of sight. The laughter and yelling of little kids filled his hearing.

He walked past a group of girls playing jump rope and drawing on the ground with pieces of chalk; a few looked up at him with fright while others gave him smiles and waved. Not paying attention to any of this, he just passed them by and walked around a corner to the next street.

He walked down the block with gas stations and markets on either side. He took notice of the graffiti that marked most of the buildings and the broken windows of some of the older factories. It gave the place a very crummy and dirty feel. There were homeless people sitting on stoops and kids around his age hanging around smoking cigarettes, drinking beer and gambling.

Walking up to an old convenience store, he opened the door and walked inside. It was small and not very clean but it sold cigarettes for cheap prices. He walked up to the counter where a middle-aged man was sitting and reading the newspaper. He looked up when Draco caught his attention and folded the paper, setting it down.

"How may I help you?" he asked in a gruff voice.

"I just need a pack," Draco said, nodded towards the case behind the man that held the cigarettes. "The cheapest you got."

"Alright," the man answered and opened the case. He picked out a red and white pack and brought it back to the counter. As he was ringing it up, Draco heard some voices coming from outside.

He looked over his shoulder and saw a group of boys standing in a huddle outside the store, talking and laughing as they pointed through the window right at him.

'Great,' he thought. 'Trouble.' He turned his attention back to the man and tried to stay unnoticed.

There was the sound of the door opening and the group of boys entering the store as Draco rummaged around in his pocket to produce the required bills to pay for his cigarettes.

He felt a couple of them move to stand behind him. His whole body tensed; he wasn't sure who they were but they were probably looking for someone to harass. And he was practically ripe for the picking.

"Hey blondie," one of them said as Draco snatched up his cigarettes and turned around to leave. "Whatcha got there?"

"Cigarettes?" another cut in.

"Hey, hows about you give me one them?"

"Fuck off," Draco growled and pushed his way through the kids. The store clerk was watching this all with mild boredom, as if he got this sort of thing all of the time. Draco wouldn't doubt that either.

"Whoa, got a temper there do you kid?" the largest one said as he blocked his path out of the store. Draco pocketed his cigarettes and clenched his fists, ready to let them fly if needed. He wasn't in the mood to deal with a bunch of idiots looking for a quick fight.

"Think you're tough do you?" one of them asked as they shoved him backwards; this boy was a couple inches shorter than him but definitely more muscular. Everyone around him laughed and jeered.

"Hey, take that outside!" the man behind the counter yelled. "You bunch of punks…coming in my store, causing trouble…" he muttered as he opened his newspaper.

"You heard the man," the largest boy said as he grinned at the others. They opened the door and shoved Draco outside. Draco turned to them, the fact that he was pissed off was written clearly on his face.

"I don't have time for this shit," he gritted out. "Just leave me the fuck alone."

"Why, you too pussy to fight us?"

"Yeah, what are you some kind of girl?"

Draco flexed his fingers and his jaw clenched; how he would love to lay one right in their faces but he held back. He had somewhere more important to be. So without even answering them, he turned his back and began walking away. This was a big mistake.

He felt two large hands roughly shove him from behind, causing him to stumble to his hands and knees. He felt his jeans rip in the place his knees had connected to the ground and his palms scraped against the rough cement.

"You just gonna turn you back on us like that?"

"We should teach him some respect, don't you think?"

They others shouted their agreement to that. Draco quickly scrambled to his feet and faced them, looking furious. They all came at him together. So they were gonna play that way? 'Bunch of dirty cowards.'

He brought his fist back and connected it to the jaw of the closest one. The boy howled in pain as he stumbled backward into the others. He prepared himself for another attack, ready to take them all on if he needed to.

The rest didn't hesitate in jumping on him. The largest one grabbed Draco's arms as another one kneed him in the stomach. Wheezing and doubling over in pain, he fell to the ground and clutched his middle. He looked up at them through the hair that had fallen into his face.

'I can't take them on all at once, they're too big and there's too many of them.'

There was more mocking laughter as Draco tried to get back up, only to have one of them merely hold him down with their foot on his back. His face was being pressed into the pavement and his finger nails tore and bled as he clawed at the ground trying to get free.

"Hey!" someone shouted from across the street. The sounds of feet pounding against the ground met Draco's ears and he looked up to see Blaise, Goyle, Crabbe and Nott all running in his direction.

"Fuck," the largest, and who Draco assumed to be the leader of the gang, cursed. He felt the foot leave his back as the person started backing off. He struggled to get to his knees.

"Seeing as I'm in no mood to fight five guys at once…" he gave one last kick to Draco's face, causing the blond boy to fall to the ground again before running off with the rest of his gang. He heard the sounds of their fading footsteps as his own gang caught up with him.

"Hey," Blaise said as he grabbed Draco's arm and helped him to his feet. "We saw that. What the fuck happened?"

Draco spit blood from his mouth and rubbed his cheek where he had been kicked. His hair was disheveled and his clothes were covered in dirt and little flecks of blood. Not to mention his torn jeans and scraped palms only added to the thoroughly fucked up look he was now sporting.

"Just some guys looking for a fight," Draco answered as he dusted himself off. "Just came up and started harassing me."

"We'll take care of it," Blaise answered and he nodded to the other three standing around. They ran off in the direction the other gang had gone. "You okay?"

"Fine," Draco growled. "I gotta go though."

"See you mate," Blaise said as he ran off with the rest. He watched them until they disappeared before he turned and started walking in the direction of his house.

'Fucking late now thanks to those idiots,' he thought angrily as he pulled out his fresh pack of cigarettes and took one. The rest of his journey home was pretty uneventful although people kept giving his bloodied appearance odd looks. He could practically read 'trouble making gangster' in all of their eyes as they watched him pass them by. He tried not to hiss every so often when his bruised face and stomach would sent jolts of pain through his body. He ran his tongue across his gums and tasted the metallic blood that still lingered there.

He smoked his cigarette down to the butt before tossing it away as he reached his house. Smoothing down his hair as much as he could manage and making sure there was no blood on his face, he walked through the door.

The first thing he noticed was that his father wasn't home. That was a plus. The second thing he noticed was that his mother was up and walking over to the hallway closet. She was moving slowly and with difficulty. Shutting the door and hurrying over to her, Draco took her arm and helped her.

"Oh, you're home sweetie," Narcissa said as she looked at him. "I was just getting my coat."

Draco opened the door for her and pulled out her old, but favorite, traveling coat. He helped her put it on and handed her bag to her.

"Thank you, you're so helpful to your mother," she said as she placed a hand on his cheek and smiled. But her smile turned to a frown when she got a good look at his face.

"What happened here?" she questioned as she grabbed his chin and turned his face for her to get a good look. She saw the ripening bruise on his pale flesh.

"Nothing mother," Draco answered, taking her wrist in his hand and lowering it from his face.

"Was it another one of those fights?" she asked him.

"Don't worry about it okay? Let's just worry about getting you to your appointment."

"Are we walking there?" Narcissa asked as Draco walked her to the door, gently leading her by her frail hand.

"I can hail a cab," Draco answered.

"That's far too expensive, we can't afford that," his mother answered as he opened the door and walked out.

"I've got money mum, don't worry."

"Well if you're sure…"

He helped her down the steps carefully and walked her to the curb. He raised a hand in the air to hail down a taxi. Several passed him by and it took a few minutes before one finally pulled over for them. Draco opened the door and let his mother get in first before following suit.

"Where to?" the taxi driver asked.

"General Hospital please," Draco said. The driver nodded and took off. Draco kept a close eye on his mother; he noticed how fatigued and frail she looked. She had lost a lot of weight and her once beautiful golden hair was hanging limply around her shoulders. There were dark circles under her eyes and her skin had taken on a sickly yellowish tone.

He hoped that these visits to the doctors would prove helpful one of these days; so far the doctors weren't entirely sure what to do with his mother. And seeing as they definitely didn't have the money to be doing all those fancy tests the specialists had suggested, they had to make due with regular check ups and different prescription medications.

The cab ride was short; it was only ten minutes by the time they arrived at the front entrance to the hospital. Draco helped his mother out of the car and reached into his pocket, producing the money that taxi ride had added up to. After paying the driver, the cab sped off and Draco took his mother's hand once again as he slowly led her through the doors.

The hospital was like any other hospital; the floors were shining and white with scuff marks here and there from the many feet and carts that had passed across it over the years. The walls were painted a very light blue and had paintings hanging from them to add a bit of liveliness to the place. He looked at them as they walked down the seemingly endless (and somewhat creepy) hallways. He reasoned that it probably wasn't because they were long, it was just that they were moving very slowly.

At last they reached a door that led into the waiting room they were supposed to be in. Letting his mother take a seat, Draco went up to the desk where a young girl in a nurse's outfit was sitting and talking on the phone. He waited patiently for her to finish while tapping his finger against the polished granite.

"Who's the appointment with sir?" the girl asked. Draco turned his attention back to her. The girl looked to be in her early twenties; she had brown hair pulled back into a high pony tail and was wearing far too much lip gloss. It made her look as if she was drooling.

Grimacing slightly, Draco answered, "Dr. Pinter-Brown for my mother Narcissa Malfoy."

The girl looked through the appointment files before nodding. "Alright, take a seat sir and the doctor will see you once she finishes up with her current patient."

Draco thanked her and went to sit back next to his mother, who was tiredly looking through one of the many magazines available around the room. Rubbing his bruised cheek, he leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling. The somewhat ragged breathing of his mother next to him and that of the other patients coughing and whispering as they waited were the only sounds in the room.

It was about ten to fifteen minutes before the door that led into the examination rooms was opened and another nurse, this one looking to be in her mid-thirties, came out with a chart in her hand.

"Narcissa Malfoy," she called, looking around the room. Draco stood up and helped his mother to her feet and led her over to the door.

"Why don't you go and look around Draco?" Narcissa said before she went inside. "This could be awhile and I think you'll be bored waiting in here."

"Alright," he agreed before Narcissa was led through the door. He took his leave and headed down the brightly lit hallways. Nurses pushing patients in wheelchairs, groups of doctors talking with each other, and families of visitors all walked passed him on his way. He looked out the windows as he passed them; they gave off a nice view of the back garden where the patients would go out to take smokes and visit with families around the large fountain. He spotted a few of them already out there, dressed in the normal hospital attire, talking to their visitors.

Taking a flight of stairs up to the second floor, he assumed this where they kept the younger patients. He saw kids around ages three to seventeen walking around or being led by their parents or nurses. The walls here were decorated with scribbled drawings and cut out paper dolls made by the children as well as posters of popular cartoon characters.

He walked leisurely through the halls, occasionally glancing into the rooms he passed by where sounds of the television running often came. The distant cry of the younger children as they were given their medication or injections often echoed off the walls.

He passed another room without giving it much thought until he heard the sounds of bickering coming from it.

"I'm telling you Hermione, I'm fine!" a familiar voice whined.

"Harry! You passed out. You had a fever of 104 degrees!"

"But it's gone now, so I'm fine! I just want to get out of here."

"But the doctors want to make sure that you're okay to leave, just in case you might pass out again or your fever comes back."

Draco stood by the door as silently as possible and listened in on the conversation. He recognized them both immediately; it was Harry Potter and that girl that was with him at the restaurant last night. He remembered how the boy looked very ill and suddenly passed out as he stood to go to the restroom. He couldn't help but recall how light the boy felt as he caught him around the waist before he could collide with the floor. He hadn't remembered exactly why he had caught Harry, but he guessed he had moved on instinct. It wasn't normally the thing he'd do, which was what confused him.

"Harry you need to take care of yourself," the girl, Hermione he assumed, sighed. "You should've told us that you were feeling bad. We won't hate you for something like that!"

"I'm…sorry Hermione," Harry mumbled. "I didn't mean to cause so much trouble."

"You're so thick! We're concerned. You never ask for help, even when you're practically dead on your feet."

There was a pressing silence after the girl's last statement. Draco wondered if they would start talking again when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"May we help you?" Draco looked up and saw the face of the man from the restaurant looking down at him.

"Um…no…I mean…"

"Oh, you're that waiter from last night aren't you?" The man smiled at him. "We wanted to thank you for your help. Are you here to see Harry?"

"Oh, er, it was nothing…really."

"Nonsense! I'm sure Harry is very grateful. Why don't you come in and visit with him. Is there anywhere you need to be?"

"Uh well, not right now."

"Wonderful." The man didn't listen to any of Draco's protests as he practically shoved the boy inside the room. The two occupants looked up with surprise as Draco stumbled through the doorway.

"Look who's here," the man announced. "It's that nice young lad from the restaurant."

"Draco?" Harry questioned as he looked at him with a bit of confusion. "Why are you here?"

"My…mum had a thing," he mumbled, feeling very awkward at this whole situation.

"Oh I see," Harry answered with a nod. Draco looked up at him and noticed that while he looked a whole lot better than he had the previous night, he still looked pale and sickly. He was wearing a light green hospital gown and playing nervously with the band around his wrist.

He saw out of the corner of his eye the bushy-haired girl, Hermione, give Harry a sharp jab in the ribs and a nod in his direction. Harry flushed slightly and bit his lip.

"I um…I wanna say you know thank you for uh catching me last night," Harry said quietly. "Because I guess…it would've sucked to have fallen to the ground and all." Draco could tell Harry was feeling quite foolish in showing gratitude towards him. Maybe the boy had never expected for someone like him to ever do anything for him.

"It's no problem," Draco answered. There was another moment of tense silence, which oddly enough the older man, who Draco assumed to be one of the two's father, did not seem to notice. He was humming to himself merrily as he studied a portrait of the night sky hanging on one of the walls of the hospital room.

"So…um, if you don't mind me asking," he cut through the silence. "What happened?"

Harry looked up at him with his startling (did he just call his eyes startling?) green eyes.

"Oh, it was just a mild case of pneumonia," the smaller boy replied.

"Mild? That didn't seem very mild to me." Harry flushed, most likely from embarrassment.

"The doctors say it had acted so severely because I was pushing myself too much and not getting enough rest."

"Like I said, you need to take better care of yourself," Hermione said smugly.

"Who was the one who made me run in the rain, huh?" Harry shot back.

"Well you don't see me with pneumonia do you? No? It's because I take care of myself."

"That's bull. I couldn't have stopped myself from getting sick even if I was the healthiest person in the world. I got sick because of you. It's your fault. Are you happy?"

"You're so frustrating!" Hermione growled as she placed her face in her hands. Draco watched the exchange with mild shock. He couldn't tell if these two were fighting or having hissy fits.

"Now, now children," the man from before cut in. "Let's not get so worked up; Harry, you need to rest not fight with Hermione. Hermione, you need to refrain from riling Harry up."

"Yes Dad."

"Sorry Mr. Granger."

"Good," Mr. Granger answered. "Besides, we have a guest here; I don't think it's very proper to have an argument in from of him, do you?"

"No dad," Hermione said with her head bowed a little.

"Good. Now, I'm going to run home and check on your mother and maybe get a few things done at the office, but then I'll be back to pick you both up. The doctors said you can go home tonight."

"Thanks Mr. Granger."

"We tried to contact your uncle though, but no one picked up at your house. Do you know of a way to contact him to let him know about what happened?"

"It's fine, you don't have to do that," Harry said dully. "He won't care."

"Well…I still think he should know. Anyway I better go; I'll see you both later alright?"

They both nodded and waved. Mr. Granger said goodbye to Draco on his way out. Draco felt completely left out on this whole situation; he had practically melded in with the shadows during that conversation.

"So…Draco," Hermione said as she turned to him. He brought his attention to her. "How come I hardly ever see you around school?"

"Hermione…don't..."

"What Harry? I was just asking him a simple question."

"Don't mind her Draco, she's got a big nose and likes to stick it in places it doesn't belong."

"Oh…" was the only thing that Draco could think to say in reply. The two were far too lively compared to what he was used to. He didn't know how to deal with people like them very well. He didn't want to be rude either though, especially since one of them was ill. "I guess I don't mind."

"So what else do you do besides work and occasionally go to school?" Boy this girl _was_ nosy.

"Um…I have a few other jobs I take and I sometimes hang out with my…friends."

"Well that sounds normal I guess," Hermione replied, looking a bit disappointed at the limited information she was getting out of him.

Draco scratched the back of his head and tried to avoid eye contact with the two of them. Harry coughed occasionally, but he couldn't tell if it was because he was sick or if it was just out of nervousness.

His eyes roamed around the room, taking in the almost bare walls except for the framed photograph and that of a teddy bear and a sunflower painted directly on the wall. Once he thoroughly scrutinized the room, his eyes couldn't help but land back on Harry, who was sitting up in the bed looking down at his lap. His dark hair fell into his eyes, almost covering his face completely. He noticed the way he was chewing on his lips, causing them to plump up and fill with color…

'Whoa, ew, why did I notice that?" Draco quickly diverted his attention away from the boy and brought it to the watch around his wrist.

"Um hey, it was nice talking to you guys and all…" he said as he started backing up to the door, "but I really gotta go now."

"Oh, alright," Hermione said as she stood up and shook his hand. "It was nice meeting you."

"You too."

"Bye Draco," Harry said as he waved, not even looking up from his lap. Draco felt somewhat disappointed at that; he was hoping maybe he would look up at him again so he could get another look at the boy's eyes.

'What the hell?' He couldn't believe he had just thought that. Hoping to get out of there before more thoughts like that entered his mind, he quickly left the room and ran down the hallway, not caring that he almost ran over a few small children on his way. Once he was a good distance from the room, he stopped and ran a hand through his hair.

'Gods, that was awkward _and_ weird,' he thought as he walked back down the stairwell to the first floor. 'I almost felt as if I were in the Twilight Zone or something.'

Finding his way back to the waiting room where he had left his mother, he opened the door and found that she still wasn't done with the doctors. Taking a seat again, he picked up one of the magazines and hoped to fill his mind with less frightening thoughts.

It was about twenty minutes before the door finally opened and his mother stepped out.

"How did it go?" he asked her as he walked with her from the room.

"It was fine dear," she said as she patted his hand lightly. "Just fine. Don't worry about a thing."

Even though the words from his mother were meant to be encouraging, he couldn't help but notice the way her hands trembled slightly and her voice cracked just a bit. It was almost as if she was hiding something.

'I'm probably just imagining things,' he thought as he walked her out and hailed another taxi. A few drops of rain fell from the swelling clouds in the sky and splashed on his cheek. He looked up at the sky as more drops began to fall. 'I'm just imagining things. Right?'

* * *

Author's Note: I almost feel bad for Harry right now, for giving him pneumonia. I had pneumonia before, it's NOT fun. It lasted for like a month. But Harry's won't last that long because he'll take his medicine, unlike me :P

So here's the chapter! I WASN'T gonna post it until later tomorrow but since I got sooo many reviews for the last chapter, I'm giving it to you now. Oh and thanks for three thousand hits for this story! You guys are awesome :D

And on to dedications: this chapter is dedicated to **Sakurabound** for being an awesome friend and always giving me great encouragement! Thank you! Hope you enjoyed.

And of course, thank you to all of my reviewers! You guys astound me, really )

P.S. Longest chapter so far! Go me:P


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

"Alright Mr. Potter, let's take a quick look shall we?" Dr. Miller said as he walked into the small room where Harry was sitting on his bed, his legs hanging over the edge. Mr. Granger and Hermione were standing off to the side, trying to stay out of the way as the doctor gave a last examination.

"Okay," Harry said as the doctor approached him.

"I must apologize for having to keep you over night once again, even though we said you could go home last night," Dr. Miller said as he pressed his stethoscope to Harry's chest. "But since your fever had spiked once again, we didn't feel comfortable releasing you."

Harry only nodded, shivering slightly as the cold metal touched his bare skin.

"Take a deep breath for me please," the doctor instructed as he moved the instrument to Harry's back to listen to his lungs. Harry did as he was told, but as his sore lungs filled with air, he let out a couple of wheezing and painful coughs.

"Again," Miller said as he moved the stethoscope to another area on his back. Harry did but it only had the same result as before.

"Your lungs still sound crackly," the doctor informed as he removed the stethoscope and put it away. "I'm going to prescribe you the antibiotics we've been keeping you on here and an inhaler to help you breathe if the coughing gets worse."

Miller wrote something down on a piece of paper and handed it to Mr. Granger. "Make sure you take the antibiotics twice a day; you'll start to feel better almost immediately but make sure you take all of the pills, or else you could get extremely ill again. Pneumonia is tricky like that."

"So I'm free to go then?" Harry asked, itching to get out of the hospital. The place alone was enough to drive anyone mad; the constant beeping of the machines, the cries and moans of patients throughout the nights and being subjected to IV's and different types of medicine just added to it all. Not to mention the fact that Harry had been covered from head to toe in bags of ice the previous night in hopes to get his high temperature back down. Along with the cold weather, it was safe to say Harry felt like a popsicle by time morning came.

"Yes, as long as you are sure to get plenty of rest along with some exercise to help get all of that crud out of your lungs, alright?"

"Yeah, okay," Harry agreed.

"Good, I'll get the nurse to bring a wheelchair in here to help you down to your car."

"That won't be necessary…" Harry said, about to protest.

"It's standard for patients who are checking out that are still ill; we don't want you to over-exert yourself before you even get out of here."

Harry looked over to Hermione; she just shrugged and gave him a just-deal-with-it look.

A nurse appeared through the door not a minute later, pushing a wheelchair in front of her.

"Alright Harry, I guess this is where we say goodbye," Dr. Miller said. "My office is always reachable if at any time you need something." He reached into the breast pocket of his white lab coat and pulled out a small business card with his name, address and number on it.

"Thanks," Harry said as the doctor handed him the card. He looked down at it for a few moments before closing his fingers around it gently.

"Ready?" the nurse asked as she rolled the chair closer to the hospital bed. Harry nodded. "Easy does it."

She took his hand gently and helped him into the chair, his legs wobbling weakly from lack of use. He sat down in it with a relieved sigh; he was suddenly glad he didn't have to walk all the way down to the parking lot. He wasn't sure his fatigued and weakened body could handle it at the moment.

Shivering despite the thick and warm jumper that he was wearing, the nurse draped a small blanket over his shoulders so he wouldn't catch a chill.

"And here we go," she said as if they were about to go on some amusement ride. She began wheeling him out of the room, Hermione and Mr. Granger following closely in tow.

Harry felt foolish being pushed along in a wheelchair like that; he was sure people were staring at him as they passed by. It wasn't as if he was a crippled person but he certainly felt that way at the moment. 'I wish my damn legs would just cooperate.'

He kept his eyes downcast as they made their way down the hallway. He didn't want to see the doctors passing by in their white coats nor the patients being taken in for surgery or testing. He couldn't wait to get out of there.

The ding of the elevator brought him back to his senses and he was led out onto the first floor. He almost cried in relief when the front entrance to the hospital came into his line of vision. 'Almost there.'

The sliding doors opened for them and Harry blinked, not having been outside in what felt like ages. He wasn't used to being in one place for so long and it felt odd having the slightly muggy air press against his shivering body. He looked up and noticed that the early morning sun was barely visible through the mass of rain-clouds taking up the expanse of the sky. A few rays of sun struggled to get through and spread light on the earth.

"Perhaps you should bring your car around so he doesn't have to go across the parking lot," the nurse suggested as they stopped by the curb. Mr. Granger nodded and went to get his car while Hermione waited by Harry.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him. She seemed to have noticed his shivering and brought the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

"I'm…fine…Hermione! Stop!" Harry protested at Hermione's fussing as he tried to struggle out of her grasp. It was hard considering he was confined to a wheelchair.

"Sorry," Hermione muttered. Harry suddenly felt bad about snapping at her and gave her a smile.

"Really, I'm okay, just a little tired," he said a little kinder, trying to make up for his previous attitude.

Hermione nodded as Mr. Granger pulled up to them and stopped the car. The nurse wheeled Harry over to the passenger side and watched him carefully as he helped himself out of the chair. He walked on somewhat wobbly legs and slid into the front seat.

"Thanks," Hermione said to the nurse. The nurse nodded and pushed the chair back towards the hospital. Hermione hopped into the backseat of the car.

The drive home was uneventful; Mr. Granger turned on the radio to listen to his usual morning talk show and Hermione was staring out the window. Harry just closed his eyes and tried not to linger on the thought of how sick he still felt. They made a quick stop at the local pharmacy to pick up Harry's prescription before they went home.

When they pulled up to the house, Mr. Granger got out and helped Harry. Hermione watched closely as Harry made his way unsteadily up the steps. He let out a few coughs that tore through his body from all of the exercise his body was suddenly getting. His lungs protested loudly at this.

When he got inside, he was still coughing as they led him over to the living room couch. He sat down heavily and panted.

"Alright Harry, you just take it easy today," Mr. Granger said as he patted Harry's shoulder lightly. "And don't forget to take your antibiotics. I'll set them on the counter in the kitchen for you okay?"

Harry nodded as Mr. Granger went to do as he said. Another round of coughs split from Harry's already abused throat.

"Do you have any cough medicine Hermione?"

"Um, I think it would be best for you to just take your antibiotics; besides, you shouldn't try to stop your coughing. It's important because it helps get all of that excess phlegm and mucus out of your lungs and…"

Hermione cut off at the tired, it's-too-early-for-that-crap glare Harry was giving her. "Ahem…well, so you're sure you'll be alright here? Should I stay home from school today?"

"No Hermione, I'll be fine," Harry practically whined. "Besides, we don't want your grades to suffer because of me now do we?"

"No, no I suppose not," Hermione answered, toying with a bit of her hair as she chewed on her bottom lip. "I'll see you this afternoon then."

Hermione picked up her school bag that was sitting on the coffee table and slung it over her shoulder. Giving Harry a quick hug, she left the room to wait for her father by the door.

"Okay Harry," Mr. Granger said as he walked back into the room from the kitchen. "You're all set I think. Remember, Jane is here if you need anything, and the number to the dentistry is in the address book by the phone in case anything goes wrong."

"Thanks," Harry said. Mr. Granger ruffled his hair a bit before joining his daughter at the door. After the door closed behind them, there was a ringing silence that seemed to linger in the room.

'I wonder where Mrs. Granger is,' Harry thought as he got up to go investigate. Keeping a hand on the wall for support, he made his way down the hallway to the master bedroom. He assumed Mrs. Granger was taking one of her naps again and probably shouldn't be disturbed. He noticed the door was open a crack and he peeked inside, all the while feeling like he was doing something incredibly wrong.

He saw Mrs. Granger sleeping on the large bed in the room. Hoping to not wake her, Harry quickly backed away from the door and tiptoed back down the hallway.

'Gods, what am I going to do all day?' he thought. Not ten minutes had passed since his return and he was already going insane with boredom. Walking back to the living room, he switched on the television before sitting on the sofa again.

"Expect more showers through the week as this storm system continues to linger. We expect it to start clearing up by this coming Sunday however…" Harry got up and switched the station, not really wanting to hear about how crappy the weather was going to be. It was pretty obvious anyway. He turned it to a station that was featuring an old horror movie from the seventies.

Harry sat down, expecting to be bored out of his mind anyway; from his experience with horror movies (which wasn't much) a lot of them were just good for a few cheap thrills and some spilled blood-that was about it.

But as the film progressed, he couldn't keep himself from jumping in fright every so often at certain scenes. He gripped one of the couch pillows tightly to his body as his wide eyes were fixed on the television with horror.

"Oh my god," he practically yelled at the T.V. "Don't be so stupid! Behind you…behind you…behi…AHHHH." Harry jumped from his seat and fell to the floor as a hand set itself on his shoulder from behind. Throwing his pillow at the attacker in defense, he jumped up, ready to attack the mutant zombie.

"Harry?" Mrs. Granger asked, slightly amused and mostly confused. "Is everything alright?"

Harry couldn't answer right away as his lungs exploded with a new set of coughs from all of the sudden excitement. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the inhaler the doctor had given him and breathed in some of it. Feeling the burning in his lungs subsiding, he looked up at Mrs. Granger, who was in turn looking down at him with concern.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat and quickly went over to the TV to switch it off. "Yeah, I'm fine Mrs. Granger…I was just…watching a movie. You scared me, that's all…ah…uh sorry about throwing that pillow at you."

"That's alright dear, no harm done," Mrs. Granger said. "I thought I heard someone out here. I'm glad to see you back. I certainly missed you around the house.

"I didn't mean to wake you," Harry said with embarrassment, feeling his face heat up. He couldn't believe how frightened he had gotten from that film. He must have been making a lot of noise shouting and screaming like that.

"Oh you didn't," Mrs. Granger answered reassuringly. "I was just waking up from my nap and heard you out here."

"Oh…"

"So how are you? What did the doctor's say? That cough doesn't sound too healthy dear."

"Oh, yeah…they said I was okay to come home as long as I got plenty of rest, which means no school for at least today, and that I take my antibiotics."

"That's good. We were all so worried about you."

"I'm really sorry for the trouble."

"Trouble dear? You've never troubled us. We just want you to be healthy and safe."

"Ah…thanks," Harry replied a bit uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his head. He wasn't used to such words, even after years of being around the Granger family. It felt like they shouldn't say things like that to him. His uncle's demeaning word's were so deeply imprinted into his mind that he wasn't sure anything could counter them.

"So what were you planning to do today?" Mrs. Granger asked, kindly changing the subject.

"I dunno, rest I guess. There really isn't much else to do."

"Oh I'm sure we can think of something. I personally find it such a relief to have someone home with me at this time of day. Usually I'm all by myself."

Harry felt bad for her; here he was going insanely bored in just an hour and here she had to do it every day. The least he could do in repayment for everything she had ever done for him was doing something with her.

"Well, I'm up for anything you are Mrs. Granger."

"Perhaps you'd like to join me for my daily painting," she said as she led him into the kitchen. She walked over to one of the many drawers and pulled out a rectangular box. Then she tried to reach down into one of the cabinets but couldn't quite get her body to bend in the way she wanted it to.

"Ugh, Harry be a sweetie and come over here," she said as she waved him over. "Could you grab that newspaper and a couple of those canvases for me please?"

"These?" Harry asked as he pulled out the things she had pointed out.

"Yeah, that's it. Set them over there on the table please." He did this as Mrs. Granger began opening up a few tubes of acrylic paint and squeezing them out onto a plastic slate for easy access. He watched with interest as she opened the box from earlier and pulled out many different sized paintbrushes and setting them down on the table, which was now covered in newspaper.

"And set some down around the table also, so we won't have much of a mess to clean up later," she instructed him. He did as he was told and laid the last of the newspaper down on the tiled floor.

"Painting is a good way to let off stress and strong emotions," she informed him as she set herself in a chair after placing a couple easels out for them to use. "Have you ever painted before?"

"Um, maybe in school when I was real young," Harry answered.

"Well, then today will be a new experience for you!" He watched as Mrs. Granger set up everything around her so she could reach them all easily. "Just pick up any brush and dip it in the paint. Paint whatever you feel like; it could be of a person or a flower or anything that you think will help express yourself."

Harry looked down at the white stretch of canvas set in front of him. He looked at the paint, the brush in his hand and then back at the canvas. His mind was drawing a blank in terms of what he felt like painting. He turned his head in Mrs. Granger's direction and saw the way her arm made long, even strokes with the brush. His eyes followed the way the colors melded and flowed with each other, creating from something that was once just an expanse of white into something beautiful and colorful.

Feeling oddly calm after watching Mrs. Granger do it, and feeling confident from seeing how easy she made it look, Harry dipped his brush into the glob of green paint and brought it to his own canvas. Biting his lip in thought for a moment, he brought the tip of the brush to the surface of the canvas and made a little green dot right in the middle. Breaking out into a huge grin, liking the way it looked, he dipped it back into the paint before doing the same thing again, only more eagerly.

Soon, his arm was moving swiftly across the canvas, covering every white spot with color; reds, blues, yellows-if the color was invented, then it was there. After ten minutes of painting, Harry brought the brush away from his work and stared at it. It didn't look like much; in fact, it didn't really look like anything. The best way to describe it was that it was a swirling mass of colors all melded together to form one giant…thing.

"Uh, I don't think I did mine right," Harry said after a few more minutes of contemplation.

"What makes you say that?" Mrs. Granger said as she turned to look at his work. She studied it for a few moments before breaking into a grin. "I think it's a work of art!"

"What?" Harry said as he stood up and walked over to take a look at hers. "What do you mean? It looks nothing like yours! Yours is good. Mine is just…bad."

"Don't say that. How did you feel when you painted that?"

"I felt…good…"

"And?"

"Happy…I felt happy too."

"Then that painting expresses how happy you felt. Art is art, no matter what the level of talent is behind the brush."

Harry looked back at his painting again with a new light. It didn't look so bad, now that he thought about it. There were lots of bright colors that just gave off the feeling of pure joy.

"Do you mind if I keep it?" Mrs. Granger asked, placing her brush down. Harry smiled and nodded. "And boy it looks like you had a lot of fun," she added as she chuckled lightly. She reached out a hand and rubbed his cheek with her thumb.

"What?"

"You're covered in paint silly," she said as she looked him up and down. "Maybe we should've put the newspaper on _you_."

Harry flushed again and rubbed his cheek. This seemed to only make her laugh more. He pouted.

"You have paint on your hands dear, you just smeared it all over your face," she said as she shook her head in amusement. Then, picking up her brush and dipping it in the yellow paint, she brought it to his face and dabbed his nose with it before looking him over again. With a nod of approval, she put the brush back down.

"Now it's complete," she said. "Two works of art in one day!"

Harry laughed along with Mrs. Granger as he walked over to the mirror hanging on the kitchen wall. He had to admit it; he looked pretty artsy. His hair and face were splashed with paint, giving him a very colorful look.

"Come over here Harry," Mrs. Granger said as she turned on the sink and wetted a rag. Harry walked over to her; she grabbed his chin and began scrubbing the paint off of him. He scrunched his face up as she did so, trying to wriggle out of her grasp. But she kept a firm hold on him with her hand.

As she wetted the rag again, she began humming a vaguely familiar tune. It was a soothing melody, especially coming from a loving mother like Mrs. Granger. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds vibrating from her throat. It almost made him forget that he was being cleaned like a five year old. Once she finished with him, she stopped humming and smiled.

"There, all clean," she said as she pinched his nose. He grimaced at the fluffy motherly gesture. "Why don't you go get out of those paint stained clothes; I'm sure Hermione has something you can wear in her room."

"Don't you need help cleaning this up?"

"Oh I can handle that, don't worry about it," she replied as she shooed him out of the room.

Harry walked into Hermione's room and switched on the light. It was neat and tidy as usual; the bed was made, the books were lined neatly on the shelves and there was not a piece of clothing lying on the floor.

He walked over to the dresser and smiled when he saw a picture of him and Hermione on top of it. He picked it up and ran his thumb across the image; they both were smiling widely as they shared a cone of ice cream. Hermione had a huge blob of pink strawberry ice cream on her nose, making her look quite childish.

Setting the picture back down fondly, Harry opened up the drawer and searched through the neatly folded clothes. Usually he would feel a bit odd by going through someone's personal stuff, but he knew Hermione wouldn't care. Besides, she _always _went through his things.

He took out a pair of the least girly jeans she owned as well as a black jumper. He took off the paint-ruined clothes and threw them into a pile by the door. Sliding his legs through the jeans and pulling them up around his waist, he buttoned and zipped them before pulling on the jumper. Both were considerably looser than he expected; he must have lost a bit of weight at the hospital. He didn't eat very much while there after all.

Walking over to the full length mirror on Hermione's closet door, he pulled up the jumper and took a good look at his body. Most of the bruises were gone or faded to the point where they were barely visible. Sucking in his stomach, Harry raised an eyebrow. 'I look scarier than that zombie in that horror flick.' Bringing the shirt back down over his body, he brought his face closer to the mirror for inspection. The dark circles under his eyes only added to the zombie look. Making a few monster faces in the mirror, he stood back and placed his hands on his hips.

"Am I looker or what?" Harry asked himself sarcastically. He was silent for a few moments, as if he was actually waiting for an answer. When none came, he tsk'd to himself. "Glad to see you agree," he said to no one.

'Great, I'm so bored now that I'm actually checking myself out _and _talking to thin air.'

Not sparing another glance at his reflection, Harry walked from the room. He heard the sound of the shower running from inside the bathroom across the hall. He assumed that Mrs. Granger was in there. Walking into the kitchen, he noticed that it was now spotless and everything had been put away.

'And here I was thinking she'd be too pregnant to do that.'

Shrugging and pulling a can of soda from the fridge, he walked back into the sitting room. Deciding not to turn on the television again, he just sat there and listened the faint ticking of the clock in the hallway. Taking a sip from his soda and then setting it down on the coffee table, he folded his arms on the arm rest and placed his chin on top of them. Letting his eyes wander around for a few moments, they came to rest on the telephone sitting on the side table.

'I wonder why Uncle Vernon wasn't picking up,' Harry thought idly. It wasn't that he really cared. It was just a bit strange.

'Whatever.' He flopped back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. Flinging an arm over his eyes and licking his lips, he tried not to think about it. 'But then again…if something happened to them and no one knows about it…'

The sound of the shower was still running from down the hallway as Harry tried to block out this train of thought.

'Ah hell,' he thought as he sat up suddenly and reached over for the phone. Dialing the number to his house, he listened to the ringing. He counted the rings up to ten before he finally slammed the phone back down.

'Nothing happened,' he told himself. 'Besides, why should I care? It's not like they ever cared about what happened to me…'

'But they _are_ my blood family.' Hearing the water shut off from the bathroom, Harry made a quick decision and hurriedly put his shoes on. Walking over to the door, he picked out a light jacket and zipped it up before heading out the door.

He knew this was stupid, he knew he shouldn't be out in his current condition but he wanted to make sure Uncle Vernon and Dudley were alright. He didn't even know why he cared. Maybe because he felt that attachment one only feels with family, even if this one was quite faint.

'Besides, I won't be long,' he assured himself. 'I'll be back before Hermione gets home.'

Walking down the nearly empty streets, Harry tried not to think about how shaky he was feeling or how weak his legs were. His heart hammered against his chest due to the amount of exercise he was suddenly putting himself through. Rubbing his hands together in an attempt to ward off the bite of the frosty air, he kept walking.

He passed many stores and buildings, all decorated for the upcoming Halloween holiday. Carved pumpkins were already set out on porches and windowsills; faces meant to be scary only seemed silly. Some shops displayed special Halloween shaped cookies, candies and other special treats for sale. It was then that Harry noticed how incredibly hungry he was.

It was about an hour walk from Hermione's house to his, but due to his slow pace and often having to stop and catch his breath, it took almost twice as long. He was pretty sure Mrs. Granger knew he was gone by now; he just hoped she didn't panic or try and search for him or anything. 'I really should have left a note.'

Feeling guiltier with every step, Harry finally reached his house. It had been about a week since he had last been there. It seemed longer somehow. He always dreaded coming to this place; the sinking feeling in his stomach was ever present as he made his way to and through the front door.

"Hello?" he called through the darkened house. There was only dead silence that answered back. Walking farther into the house, he couldn't make out any sounds of the television running or some sort of movement that would signify human life.

His throat feeling suddenly dry and more coughs coming up, Harry walked through the living room, kicking cans and rubbish on the way, and went into the kitchen. He couldn't believe what a pig-sty the place was. There were dishes everywhere; cabinets were thrown open and substances of God-Knew-What were spilled everywhere.

Harry went up to the sink and reached for as clean a glass as he could find. Filling it with water from the tap, he brought it to his lips and let it pass down his cottony throat.

He hand, larger and beefier this time, grabbed his shoulder from behind and whirled him around. Dropping the glass in fright, causing it shatter against the ground around his feet, he looked up into the angry face of his uncle.

"YOU!" He practically roared as he gulped back the last of the brandy from the bottle in his hand. "What are you doing here?" His face was red and his eyes were blood-shot and crossed. It didn't seem like the man knew where he was exactly. Harry backed up against the sink in fright. The edge of the counter dug into his spine painfully.

"I-I I just wanted to check up on you un-…" he was cut off as a sharp blow connected with his cheek, causing him to fall to the ground. Shards of glass cut into his palms and knees as they made contact with the floor.

"I-insolent little brat," his uncle hiccupped. "I guesh it was-was too much to hope that you had died in a gutter somewhere."

Harry scrambled to his feet. 'Why did I come here? Why did I think that this was a good idea?' He started edging towards the door.

"It was so much better without you here boy," his uncle slurred as he advanced on him unsteadily.

"I'm sorry uncle, I'm sorry," Harry said as he backed away farther. "I'll just leave…"

"You're…you're not going an-anywhere until I'm finished with you boy!" his uncle said as he tried to take a drink from his already empty bottle. This seemingly enraged the man even further; he chucked the bottle angrily at Harry. It missed the boys face by inches as it smashed into the wall behind him.

Not waiting to see what would happen next, Harry spun around and sped from the kitchen. He heard the thundering footsteps of his enormous uncle behind him but he did not slow down.

His lungs began to burn painfully and a coughing fit chose that moment to rip from his body. Slowing down quite a bit, Harry tried to keep moving as he continued to cough. He felt a pair of arms grab him around the waist and haul him backwards. Yelling out, Harry kicked his foot back feeling it connect with his uncle's face. The large man let go of the small boy in surprise and pain. Not sparing a moment, Harry jumped to his feet and hopped over the sofa. He sprinted from the house, not listening to the screaming and ranting of his uncle behind him.

Tearing down the steps and onto the street, Harry didn't pay attention the yells of the pedestrians and the angry honking of car horns as he crossed the street without looking for oncoming traffic.

He kept running until his lungs screamed for him to stop and his weakened legs finally gave out. Collapsing on the grass of a nearby park, he got on his hands and knees and continued to cough; the choked sounds of sobbing were escaping from his mouth, mingling with the coughing and making it even harder for him to breathe.

"Hey, kid, are you alright?" he heard someone ask. He looked up and saw a dark skinned kid around his age staring down at him.

"What's going on?" another, gruffer voice, asked.

"I dunno; this kid is coughing up a lung over here."

"Should we help him?"

"Shit I dunno," the first boy replied. "I don't see how helping him would help us."

"Blaise, what are you guys looking at?"

"Just this sick kid Draco."

"Stop talking about me like that," Harry rasped out and wiped away the saliva that was dripping from his lips. Then he realized the last thing the kid had said.

"Draco?" he looked up and sure enough there was the blond boy that he seemed to be running into an awful lot these days.

"Shit Harry, why is it every time I run into you now, you're hacking your fucking brains out?"

"Shut up, it's not my fault," Harry shot back, sitting back on his knees.

"Why are you here? Did you decide to bust out of the hospital so you could die here in the park?"

"No, I was released today for your information."

"Whoa, whoa okay do you know this kid Draco?" the guy from before cut in.

"Barely, I've met him a couple of times. Sometimes I feel like he's my stalker though."

Harry opened his mouth to protest but another round of coughs burst from his mouth instead. Draco looked slightly alarmed and patted him on the back.

"Don't die, I know I'll get blamed for it," he said, though somewhat soothingly. Harry finally stopped and was breathing heavily through his nose. "Calmed down yet?"

Harry nodded. "Thanks." Draco took Harry's hand and helped him to his feet.  
"You still haven't answered why you are here. Shouldn't you be in fucking bed or something?"

"I…none of your business."

"Whatever," Draco replied, placing his hands in the air in defeat. "Not my problem, whatever it is."

"Draco, we're outta here. I don't wanna deal with this shit. Meet us back at my place later okay?"

"Alright." Harry watched as the four other boys walked away.

"Are they your friends?"

"Yeah, I guess you can call them that."

"And I could be asking you why _you're_ here. Shouldn't you be in school?"

"I was actually on my way to work," Draco replied. "I come by here a lot to meet up with my…friends. And just so you know, this park is full of gangsters. I wouldn't just come here alone."

"Right…" Harry muttered. He suddenly felt very drowsy. "I think I need to get home anyway before Hermione finds out I'm…" His sentence, however, was cut off by the sound of a car screeching to a halt and a car door being thrown open. He was suddenly tackled from behind and a large weight settled on top of him.

"HARRY POTTER!" Hermione screamed as she began whacking him on the head. "What…are…YOU THINKING RUNNING OFF LIKE THIS?"

"Hermione…!" Harry tried to protect his head with his arms.

"We were worried sick!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Harry said as he wormed his way out of Hermione's grasp and crawled away from her. Standing up quickly, Harry steeled himself for another attack.

Instead, Hermione gasped and grabbed his face. "Harry what happened? Why are you bruised?"

Harry felt Draco's eyes on him suddenly; feeling far too exposed, Harry tried to turn away from their gazes.

"I was just…walking, Hermione, and I fell. I guess I thought I was strong enough to take a walk but I was wrong. Okay?"

Hermione looked about ready to throw another barrage of questions at him but Mr. Granger came up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Hermione, we'll talk about this later. I think it's best that we get Harry inside somewhere warm first."

Hermione shut her mouth and nodded.

"Ah, I see we meet again," Mr. Granger said as he spotted Draco. "You always seem to show up when we need you the most, don't you?"

"Uh…I guess that's true," Draco replied, looking at all of them.

"I must thank you again. I'd love to sit and chat but we really should take Harry back now. If you ever want to stop by for a visit though, you can find us listed in the phonebook under 'Granger.'

"Alright then."

"Bye Draco," Harry said as he waved meekly. He let himself be led back to the car by Hermione, who had a firm hold on his elbow. She seemed quite persistent in not letting Harry have any chance of escape. He knew he was going to get quite a scolding from Hermione and Mrs. Granger once he got home. He wasn't sure how he was going to explain his way out of this one.

* * *

Author's Note: HOLY COW SHOES. This chapter is freakin' long. Six thousand words. Can you believe it? Longest chapter yet! Only took me about a forever.

Anyway, I just wanted to make a little side note about the story, just in case some of you don't know: I'm writing this story pretty much written to the Harry Potter timeline. So, if my math and knowledge is correct, this is taking place in 1996. Now, seeing as I was only seven at that time, I don't remember much from that era. Forgive me for mistakes and point them out if you see any. Just know that there won't be things like iPods and whatnot in this story.

As for chapter dedication, this one goes to **InsanePirate **for being a creepy To Dance Again story stalker. Love you! You and your reviews are awesome :D

Thanks for all of your reviews! All ten of them!!


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Draco leaned against the oak tree, his back digging into the bark uncomfortably as he sat on the dewy grass. The mid-morning sky was a deep brilliant blue with hordes of white and fluffy clouds dominating it. All of the recent rain had cleaned away the dirt and smog in the air, leaving it fresh and clean for all to enjoy.

'Fresh air…meh, I wish I had a cigarette.' Draco had unwittingly left his pack at home, which had him feeling antsy and on edge as he sat outside during break time. It was an unusually nice Friday, and Draco was spending it at school for a change. He looked around at the grounds and noticed the way the grass was a deep, earthy green from all of the rain. The trees were mostly bare save for the few evergreens that were present. Birds twittered and bugs crawled around on the ground as his fingers dug into the damp soil, getting dirt underneath his nails.

The distant chatter of the other students rang in his ears but he tried to ignore it. He knew he was distancing himself from everyone else and that's the way he wanted it. He didn't listen to anyone who said that he needed more friends, that he was loner, a loser, and should get out more. He didn't need shit like that.

'Like I need more people's problems on my shoulders,' he thought as he chucked a clump of dirt across the yard and watched as it fell to the ground with a soft "flump".

He breathed out slowly, watching as his misty breath rose up in front of him. He banged his head back against the tree behind him and stared up at the sky. The sun was peeking through and glaring down at him. The warm rays caressed his skin in an odd contrast to the chilly air nipping around him. He ran his tongue over his chapped lips and spit onto the ground before closing his eyes.

His mind went blank; he was barely aware of his surroundings and almost forgot about the fact that he was at school. He went undisturbed for what could have been hours (what is time to a mind at peace?) but in reality it was probably only a few minutes before he felt the presence of another invade his personal space.

He cracked his eyes open a fraction at the hurried movements of whoever it was; he looked around and spotted a figure crouching down behind the tree, obviously hiding from something.

"Is she looking?" a voice whispered to him. Draco, having gotten used to hearing it by now, recognized it immediately.

"Harry? What are you doing?"

"Hiding from Hermione, is she looking?" Draco raised an eyebrow but took a look around the campus anyway. He didn't spot the head of bushy hair anywhere.

"No."

"Oh, good," Harry said as he slouched down next to Draco and crossed his legs.

"And why exactly are you hiding from that girl?"

"She's driving me nuts; if she's not fussing over my health, she's using me as some kind of mediator for this thing between her and Ron Weasley."

"Ron Weasley? Weasley…oh, yeah the family of carrot tops." The Weasley's weren't exactly hard to miss; and it so happened that the twins of the family made it their goal in life to be known world-wide as pranksters. It was the only reason Draco even knew their name.

"Yeah…I just had to escape from it. She can be so smothering sometimes."

"So you're not sick anymore?"

"I'm fine now," Harry snapped. "But Hermione doesn't believe that." His statement was made void by the soft coughs that followed it. At least they weren't loud and disgusting like the coughing from yesterday, Draco reasoned. He tried not to take too much notice of the ugly bruise that was taking up the entire space of Harry's cheek. He wondered what had happened. He didn't dare to ask though. He knew how it was to want to keep certain things personal.

"Well I can see you're having your problems, but could you please take them somewhere else?"

"Huh?"

"I was enjoying the peace and quiet until you came and started cluttering up my thinking space."

"Why are you so rude? Jeez, it isn't hard to be a civilized person."

"And your point?"

"Agh, you're so annoying! Here I was trying to be nice and keep you company."

"I thought you were hiding from your friend."

"Well, I was but I thought I'd come and get to know you while I hid behind you; it seemed like a win-win to me."

"And what makes you think I'll let you hide behind me?" 'Better yet, what makes him think I want him to get to know me?' Draco added in his mind.

"Alright, fine, fine you've made your point," Harry said. "I'll just go on the other side of the tree and hide there." Harry scooted over until his back was pressed against the side of the tree opposite of Draco. "You're like some kind of pissed off cat or something, throwing a bitch fest over personal space."

"Whatever," Draco muttered and closed his eyes again in annoyance. This kid was surely trying to make his life a living hell; that was the only excuse for the bizarreness of the situations that always seemed to arise every time he appeared. Either that or he was just a magnet for trouble.

Neither spoke; the only sound made was of Harry moving about and trying to get comfortable in his spot. Draco knew he wouldn't be able to get back into the peaceful trance he was in earlier; not with the boy squirming around like that. Cursing the Gods for his fate, Draco opened his eyes and reached around in his pocket for a cigarette. Remembering again that he hadn't brought them, he swore under his breath.

Turning his head slightly, Draco called to the boy he had his back to, "Hey, got a cigarette I can bum from you?"

"What?" Harry asked as his head popped around from the tree and looked at him with disgust. "No, I don't smoke."

"Shit, just my luck."

"Why do you want one anyway?"

"Because my fucking nerves are fried and you're not helping."

"Wow, calm down. So are you saying if you had a cigarette then you'd be nicer?"

"What…well, maybe a little…?"

"Why didn't you say so in the first place? Be right back!" Draco was perplexed as he watched Harry get up and jog back across the campus. Thinking that he had finally left him alone, Draco sighed. 'Finally.'

But it was not so, not but a few minutes later the boy returned, grinning from ear to ear.

"Here," he said as he held a cigarette out for him. Draco's eyes widened and he snatched it up almost immediately. Taking out his matches, he lit it and sucked on it greedily. Blowing out all of the smoke in one large puff, he smiled and relaxed.

"I could fucking kiss you Harry," he said. He noticed the blush that spread across the other boy's cheek and rolled his eyes. He suspected he should probably do something nice in return, so he nodded his head to the spot next to him, indicating that it was okay for Harry to sit there.

"Thanks," Harry said as he sat down next to him. He watched as Draco continued to take long drags from the cigarette.

"So where'd you get this?" Draco asked as he tapped some ashes to the ground. He noticed the way Harry watched the little embers fall to the ground and form a pile near his toes.

"Well, friends are good for alotta things, and bumming smokes is one of them."

"No shit?"

"Er…when did you start smoking anyway?" Draco briefly wondered if this was going to lead into one of those 'smoking is bad for you, you'll die of cancer at an early age blah blah blah' speeches.

"When I was fourteen," he answered.

"So two years? I guess that's not that long." Harry plucked a leaf from his hair and started fiddling with it.

"Aren't you going to tell me how wrong it is; that I should stop now or forever be damned to hell or some shit like that?"

"Um, no, why would I? I mean, it's your life. I'm not gonna preach to you."

"Well you're a first then."

"Don't do it around Hermione though, I'm sure she'll recite a whole pamphlet on lung cancer and emphysema to you."

"She can get in line with every other person on the planet with the same agenda," Draco drawled lazily as he crossed his leg over his knee and leaned back. His cigarette was dangling haphazardly from his fingertips as he blew out smoke rings.

"Whoa that's pretty cool," Harry complimented as his eyes followed the rings until they disappeared into the atmosphere. "How did you do that?"

"Practice I guess," Draco said with a shrug. He handed the cigarette to Harry. "Go ahead, give it a try."

"Uh…" Harry eyed it. "No thanks."

"Your loss."

They both fell quiet again. Harry was picking at the grass and making a neat little pile of blades next to Draco's pile of ashes. Draco watched him with interest; this boy was weird. When Harry finished, he started chewing on his lip and toyed with the hospital band around his wrist.

"Why haven't you taken that off?" Draco asked him curiously.

"What…oh…I guess I just never got around to it." Draco noticed how the edges of it were all worn and frayed from being pulled on so much. Getting an idea, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small switchblade that he kept on him most of the time, just in case.

"Here," he said as he grabbed Harry's hand with one of his; he pressed the edge of the blade to it and sliced the plastic in half. It fell from around the boy's wrist and to the ground. Harry rubbed his wrist in the place where it had been and looked up at him.

"Thanks," he said as his eyes roamed the blade. "Why do you carry that around?"

Draco flipped the blade open and closed a few times as he finally smoked his cigarette down to the end.

"For gutting and cutting of course." Harry's eyes widened in shock. Draco chuckled. "For protection actually. And for whatever else."

"Oh. From what?"

"You never know…" Draco said as he flipped the blade open again and gave Harry an unreadable look. "When one day you're walking home and some prick decides to give you a hard time. It turns violent. And all you can do is open your knife up and stick it right into the guys gut." Draco thrust the knife forward and jammed it into the bark of the tree. Harry jumped slightly and backed away, eyeing the blond dubiously.

"Well…that…is something," he said. Draco grinned at him and ripped the blade from the tree, sending a few specks of wood flying through the air.

"Always gotta be on your toes," Draco said as he brought the knife closer to Harry's neck. "Can't take any chances you know?" He watched as the boy gulped slightly as the edge of the cold steel came only millimeters away from his flesh. Draco spotted something shiny hanging around the boy's neck, and with a quick movement, he snagged it with his blade and brought it out to view.

"What's this?" he asked, noticing the tiny angel pendant. It didn't look like something that would belong to a boy.

"It's nothing," Harry replied harshly, grabbing the necklace and stuffing it back down his shirt. "Mind your own business."

"What's got you in a miff all of a sudden?" Draco flipped the pocket knife closed and put it back in his jacket. "You were all keen for us to get to know each other, but I ask you a question and you become Mr. Ice Cube."

"It's just personal okay? Please don't bother me about it."

"Fine." Another pressing silence bore down on them at that statement. Draco scratched at a spot on his hand, not even wincing when he started to draw blood. The sudden awkwardness was making him a bit anxious and he didn't even know why. He looked over in Harry's direction and noticed that the boy was plucking a dandelion from the earth. He then started twirling it around between his thumb and index finger, a few of the fluffy little seeds detaching and floating away.

"What are you doing?" he asked. He noticed that the boy's lips were moving, forming silent words.

"Making a prayer," Harry answered. Draco gave him a questioning look. "All you gotta do is make a prayer in your mind, hold it all in and then blow on the dandelion, releasing your prayer into the seeds. Then as the seeds float away, so does your prayer."

"A prayer to whom?"

"I dunno," Harry said, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. "Maybe it's not so much a prayer as it is a conversation."

"A conversation with a flower?"

"Well, no, the flower carries the conversation to whomever you want it to reach. I heard it works with wishes too."

"And where did you hear such a moronic thing?"

Harry shrugged, "I think Mrs. Granger told it to me when I was littler."

"And you believed her?"

"It's not like it's a bad thing to believe," Harry said. "It's not harming anyone."

"Yeah but it's stupid."

"Stupid to you," Harry said as he sucked in all of his breath and blew on the weed. The fluffy seeds all scattered and began floating in different directions; upwards to the sky, downwards to the earth and some sideways to who-knew-where. "But not to me."

Harry then stood up and gathered his bag. He pressed the stem of the now seedless weed into Draco's hand and walked off without another word. Draco stared down at the little stem for a few moments before scoffing and chucking it across the grounds. 'Foolish nonsense.'

He twitched when he felt something soft and lighter than a feather land on his face near his eye. He blinked and brought his hand up to the spot and swiped at it; bringing his hand back down he found one of the seeds on his finger. It must have floated back and landed on Draco's cheek.

Sighing, he blew it off of his finger, letting it float off with the rest of the other ones. He stood up and brushed blades of grass from his pants just as the bell sounded across the campus. He made his way back towards the school, ready for another round of tedious classes.

----

After school, instead of going home, Draco headed to a new job he had found in place of his old supermarket one. It was at a tiny diner; the manager had hired him to do things like clean out the ovens, chip off ice from the storage freezers, clean dishes and unload boxes from delivery trucks whenever they came. It certainly did not sound glamorous but it would help keep the bill collectors at bay.

Not having time to change out of his school uniform, Draco just walked into his new job the way he was. The moment he walked through the door, his supervisor, Mr. Mayberry, immediately grabbed him and shoved him into the back room.

"You will start here," he informed him. "Clean those dishes over there and fast. Then I want that oven scrubbed of all grease and crud before the evening rush. I will be back to check on your progress in an hour."

He then shoved an apron into his arms and headed back toward the door the led to the front. "And don't screw up or you're out of here."

The door slammed shut behind him and Draco was left standing there in a rather sour mood. 'What the fuck's up his ass?'

He put the apron on and tied it around the back before walking over to the sink. It was piled high with dishes, pots, pans and utensils. Normally, in larger restaurants, it wasn't necessary to wash dishes by hand. They had machines that dishes could be fed through and it would clean them almost instantly. Draco knew because he had seen it at the other restaurant he worked at. He assumed that since this diner was so small it couldn't afford to have something like that.

'I guess that means I gotta haul ass,' he thought as he turned on the water and quickly began scrubbing the plates, bowels and pans. His arms were sore not even halfway through and his feet were beginning to ache and swell from standing so long. He frowned at his water-pruned hands; his mother always complimented that he had such nice hands and that he should take good care of them. Well they definitely weren't nice now.

Thrusting his hand back in, the water almost coming up to his elbow, he began working on a particularly gritty skillet. His blond hair fell into his face as sweat beaded on his forehead. His muscles were straining painfully and by the time he set the last bowel in place, he was sure he was going to be feeling _that_ workout for quite a while.

Wiping his sleeve across his forehead, he panted slightly. Who would've thought scrubbing dishes could be so exhausting?

He decided to move onto the next task and he checked his watch. It had taken him twenty-five minutes to do all of those dishes. He still had time to get to the oven before the boss came back and inspected his work.

Getting on his knees and opening the door of the oven opened, he couldn't help but groan. It was covered in grease, crusted food and tar. This was almost as worse as anything he had dealt with in his own home. Almost.

He sprayed some of the all purpose cleaning formula around the oven before taking the metal scrubber and starting on the seemingly impossible task. The whole upper part of his torso was practically inside of the oven as he tried to reach all the way to the back.

"Are you finished yet?" the voice from behind him said, causing Draco to jump in surprise and bump his head roughly against the top of the oven. He winced and brought himself all the way out, rubbing his head. He looked up at the man through one eye, stars dancing across his vision.

"Nearly," he gritted out and brought his hands down to wipe against the apron. It, along with the rest of him, was covered in all forms of grime. He was sure he looked _fantastic_ at the moment.

"Well get a move on, the delivery truck is out back and needs someone to help them unload. Actually, go do that first and then finish up here."

Draco merely nodded as he flung the scrubber onto one of the counters and walked through the back door. A small truck was there with a few men unloading boxes from it.

"That's the last of them," one of the men said as they shut the back of the truck and locked it. "See you next order." They all loaded into the truck and were off.

'Fucking great, gotta do this by myself?' Draco was sure by now that this was by far the most grueling job he had taken to date. Rubbing his hands together and then hauling two of the boxes stacked on top of each other up, he walked back into the diner.

'Where does he want these?' he thought as he looked around. He spotted a door and opened it; it looked like a cooled storage room. Shrugging, he set the boxes down there and went out to get the rest. It took a total of six trips to get all of them in and he felt worn to the bone by time he set the last box down with a grunt.

After dusting his hands off, he placed them on his hips and looked around. He really wanted to just sit down and get off his feet for a moment but he knew he needed to get that oven done before Mr. Mayberry came back. Once he started again, the task had taken another ten minutes to complete. The skin on his hands was beginning to peel from scrubbing so much and his lips were chapped and burning from licking them so much. It was safe to say that he was thoroughly miserable.

He sat back on his heels once he was finished and massaged his sore arms. He hoped that Mr. Mayberry didn't have much more for him to do.

But as luck would have it, his supervisor worked his butt off, despite it being his first day. If he wasn't washing certain dishes on demand ("Mr. Malfoy, we need five clean dessert plates pronto!") he was doing things like chopping onions, scraping frost off of the freezer, and mopping the floor clean of spills made by the cooks. He was constantly on his feet, running around and doing things as commanded. By the end of the day, his back was bent in exhaustion and his school uniform was ruined with stains and spills.

'Fuck, I'll have to get that out somehow,' he thought as he inspected his clothes over. He didn't have an extra uniform to wear and he knew he couldn't afford to buy a new one.

He put the broom, mop and other cleaning materials away in their respective places and waited for Mr. Mayberry to come back. He sat down on one of the crates in the corner and rubbed his swelling ankles. His shoes were uncomfortably tight and he couldn't wait to get out of them.

After a few minutes of waiting, Mr. Mayberry came through the door. Draco stood up, albeit a bit unbalanced and waited for him to say something. He noticed the way the man looked around the kitchen, as if scrutinizing every detail of everything Draco did that day.

"Well, you did what you were told to do," he said as he rubbed his chin, "And you did them in a decent amount of time. So I guess I'll be seeing you Monday afternoon. Don't be late."

Draco didn't know if he was relieved or horrified at the fact that he was able to keep this job. He went with a little mixture of both; he did, after all, need the money, even if it meant doing horrifying things.

"Thank you," Draco said hoarsely. His throat was dry from breathing in so much dust and not having anything to drink for at least ten hours. He took off his apron and placed it in the laundry cart just outside the door. It was sad that it barely protected his clothing. He wondered what the point was in wearing it.

Walking outside, he noticed the sun was already going down, leaving a reddish-pink tinge just on the horizon against the purple night sky. He patted around his pockets and searched through them for his cigarettes but once again he remembered he forgot them at home.

'Curse my forgetfulness,' he thought. 'God I think I've been smoking way too much lately.'

"Looking for one of these?" Draco spun around, tensed and ready for a fight, but relaxed when he saw it was only Blaise; Crabbe, Goyle and Nott were all standing in the background. Blaise was holding out a pack so Draco could take a one from it.

"Thanks," he said as he took it, but decided to tuck it behind his ear until later. Right now he wanted to find out what Blaise was up to. "What are you doing here?"

"Just coming to see how our favorite blonde faired at his new job," Blaise said around the cigarette in his mouth that he was lighting. He waved out the match and threw it to the damp ground. "It looks like it fucked you over good." He was taking in Draco's grimy appearance.

"Ha-ha cut the shit Blaise; you never just show up for no reason, especially not to chit-chat."

"Fair enough," he replied. "Just wanted to let you know about the new place we found. It's an easy target."

"No," Draco said shortly before taking the cigarette from behind his ear and walking past Blaise. He heard the hurried footsteps of the boy following him.

"What do you mean 'no'?" he asked furiously, grabbing Draco's shoulder and spinning him around harshly. "We're supposed to be in this together."

"I know but I don't think it's a good idea, what with what happened to Macnair."

"Fuck Macnair, he got caught; big deal. We won't. You know why? Because we're not fucking morons like him." Blaise glared heavily at Draco, which Draco returned just as fiercely.

"I fucking said no," Draco growled as he swept Blaise's hand from his shoulder. "Leave me alone Blaise, I don't wanna deal with this shit right now."

"Is this how you repay me? Bailing out when it gets just a little tough? After I brought you in and fucking saved your sorry ass?

Draco tensed slightly but did not stop walking. He lit the cigarette and ignored the shouts of Blaise behind him.

"You'll come back, just watch! You'll realize you need me Draco!"

Draco rounded a corner and the shouting subsided. He tried not to think too heavily on Blaise's words. 'I don't need him or his shit. And I definitely don't need his help.'

----

As Draco sat down at the table that night, pouring over a dozen or so pieces of paper, he realized how deep in the hole they really were. All of them were overdue bills that needed payment; electricity, hot water, food, and medical: they were so far into dept he wasn't sure his measly income was going to cover it this time.

Rubbing his face tiredly, Draco ripped open another envelope and scanned it over. After he read the last sentence, he nearly crumbled it in anger. If he didn't get the rent on the house paid in two weeks, they were going to get evicted.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck, god dammit, why am I cursed to live a shitty life?' he thought as he placed his head in his hands and closed his eyes. He couldn't let his mother live on the streets, she'd die in a day. He didn't care what happened to his father, as far as he was concerned the man could live in a gutter for the rest of his life.

Taking a deep breath and trying to calm his slowly panicking mind, he scooted his chair back and stood up. Pacing the kitchen, he continuously ran his hand through his hair. Stopping and punching the refrigerator angrily with his fist, he tried to come up with a plan. He needed money and fast. Leaning his forehead against the door of the fridge, he clenched his hands into a fist and banged them against it a few more times.

'Okay, just calm down, you know nothing ever gets solved when you're angry,' he reminded himself, trying to assuage his panic and fear. Turning around so his back was against the fridge now, he gazed up at the ceiling, cursing at it randomly and chewing on the inside of his cheek.

'You know what this means right?' he told himself. 'Gotta go back to Blaise.' Pushing himself to stand upright, he walked from the kitchen, trying to keep the sudden shame filling him from keeping him down. He had just backstabbed Blaise and now he was going back, groveling like a sniveling little bug. Could this day get anymore degrading?

He yanked his coat off the hook by the door and slammed the door after him. He tugged it on and zipped it up. Walking down the foggy streets, he headed to the place he knew Blaise would most likely be.

And he was right; he found the four boys all huddled together on the street corner just by the park they usually always met at. He tried to keep his heart from jumping up out of his throat as he approached them. He wouldn't blame them if they beat the shit out of him for even showing his face.

They turned around and watched as he approached; he couldn't help but notice the smug look on Blaise's face as he got closer. Stopping in front of them, no one spoke for a few moments.

"So what's the place?" Draco asked, scuffing his feet against the sidewalk nervously. He clenched and unclenched his fingers inside of his pockets.

"A tiny book store in the central shopping district. It's run by an old lady. It should be an easy one."

"When?"

"Tomorrow night."

"Alright," Draco nodded. He chewed on his lips until they were torn and bleeding. He was so bat-shit afraid at the moment. He hated his life so much. "I'm sorry, about before."

"Yeah? And?" He should've known Blaise wouldn't let it go with a simple apology. He probably wanted Draco down on his knees and begging for forgiveness.

"And…I admit that I need your help Blaise. I'm sorry for turning my fucking back on you like that."

"Yeah, you were stupid," Blaise said. "But I knew you'd come back didn't I?"

"Yeah."

"So you're in then?"

Draco looked at the boys standing in a circle around him; from Blaise's menacing face to Crabbe, Goyle's and Nott's intimidating stances. They were all looking at him expectantly, as if this one decision would change the course of his life forever. Taking a deep breath and looking up at the star speckled sky as if it held the answer, he nodded.

"Yeah," he said, looking back at them. "I'm in."

* * *

Author's Note: Yoou guuuys are soooo lucky I love you or else you so wouldn't be getting this chapter right now. I am soo drugged up on Nyquil and cold medicine that I'm not even sure if I'm speaking coherently right now. 

Ppplease let me know if there are any mistakes. First of all, I have no beta (she ran off to somewhere, probably got scared of my writing), so these chapters are kinda raw. Second of all I'm not using spellcheck at the moment because I don't have it on this program. And third, I'm sick, so therefore liable to fuck up a few things. I reread it three times though, so please be error free you stupid chapter. It's not as long as the last one but I hope it's long enough.

As for dedication, the winner isss: **Lillix Vail** for ruining the mood of every chapter to date with her lovely reviews. And for being an awesome friend for I forgot how long. You rock girl.

Oh god, Please telll me I don't appear as out of it as I actually feel.

Byeee. Review please.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

'How did that lullaby go again?' Harry wondered to himself as he lazily dusted the books lined neatly on the numerous shelves. It was another one of those slow Saturdays, and while it was not raining, the shop still didn't have very many customers. He twirled the duster around in his hands as he roamed down the aisles of books, cleaning as he went.

'_There were two birds_…I think that's how the beginning went,' he thought as he placed the stool down and stepped up on it to reach one of the stop rows. He was currently trying to remember the words to the tune Mrs. Granger had been humming the other day. He knew it had seemed familiar and now, with nothing else to think about, he was trying to get it right.

Toying with the chain around his neck, Harry's eyes scanned over the book titles while absentmindedly running the duster over them. This section was all on poetry, and while it had never been an area he had any talent in, he enjoyed reading them on occasion.

His sneakers squeaked against the ground as he moved down each row, humming and cleaning as he went.

'_…sat on a stone.' _He had to stand on his toes to reach the very top shelf of a particularly high bookcase.

"Fa la la la lal de," he sang allowed, straining even farther to get a batch of spider webs that were hiding in a corner.

"What are you singing Harry?" an amused voice came from behind. Harry, surprised, spun around suddenly but only ended up stumbling over his feet and tipping the stool over. His stomach dropped as he started falling backwards, and closed his eyes as he braced himself for the fall.

But a pair of arms grabbed him around his chest and caught him. The stool clattered to the floor noisily as his mind tried to catch up with what just happened. Feeling himself being set safely on both feet, he turned around to face his rescuer.

"Ron?" Harry asked with confusion. He looked over the gangly teen; the boy's freckled face was grinning and blue eyes were dancing with amusement.

"Lucky I was here mate, or you'd be lying on the floor right now."

"Well, if you hadn't surprised me, I wouldn't have fallen in the first place," Harry grumped as he turned back to his job.

"Sorry about that," Ron answered sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck. "So what were you singing?"

"Huh? Oh…um just some tune I was trying to remember the words to."

"I hate it when that happens; I'll be singing along in my head and all of a sudden I draw a blank. But don't worry, you can just fill it in with a few "something something's" and it'll sound the exactly the same."

"Uh…" Harry was glad he had his back to the redhead; he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Straightening himself up and keeping a neutral face, Harry turned to Ron and asked, "So why are you here anyway?"

"Just uh…browsing around these books here," he answered as he snatched a random book from one of the cases. "I've been meaning to read up on…" he flipped the book open. "The Female Reproductive System...wait." Harry's shoulders shook with uncontrollable laughter as he watched the way Ron's ears turned red with embarrassment and as he hastily shoved the book back where he had gotten it.

"Good subject," Harry commented lightly. "But I'm not buying it."

"Huh?"

"Your lie. I know you're not here for any book."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"Oh, I know you happen to be here for a certain _book_worm."

"What are you talking about Harry?" Ron's eyes were darting around the store uncomfortably.

"Ron, you come here every week, asking the same question; looking for the same thing."

"Okay, you caught me. But that's not the only reason I'm here. I'm here for you too actually."

"What? Why me?" Harry gave Ron a confused look.

"Well, Mrs. Granger called me up and said you and Hermione needed a ride somewhere."

"What?" Harry couldn't for the life of him figure out what Ron was talking about. As far as he knew, he hadn't asked for a ride anywhere. Ron just shrugged. The tingle of the shop bells interrupted Harry's confusion and he looked over to the entrance. He saw Hermione standing there, looking around for him.

"Over here Hermione!" Harry said as he waved the duster around to catch her attention. She looked over and grinned. She began heading in his direction quickly, but he noticed her pace slowed down and her grin faded when her eyes landed on the redhead next to him.

"Ron, what are you doing here?" she asked, realizing there wasn't any way she could hide now that she had already announced herself.

"Your mum called me," Ron answered. "She said something about needing a ride somewhere."

"Oh I'm going to kill her!" Hermione exclaimed. She looked angry and scared at the same time.

"Hermione?" Harry questioned. "What's going on?"

"I asked my mum earlier today for a lift to the dance studio, but she said she couldn't since dad has the car all day."

"The dance studio?" Harry had never felt more confused in his life than he did at that moment.

"Yeah. I thought we'd just walk there. But I didn't think she'd do that," she said as she jabbed a thumb in Ron's direction.

"Why would we need to get to the dance studio?" Harry raked over his mind for anything he might have forgotten.

"Oh! I forgot to tell you," Hermione said as she slapped her forehead. "I asked for an extension on the dance routine we were supposed to come up with, but Miss Miranda could only give us a day."

Harry paled considerably; he had forgotten about that entirely. His mind had been taken over by his sudden illness. They hadn't even come up with a routine!

"Hermione! We don't even have a dance prepared, we can't go now!"

"Harry, Harry, you have no faith in me," Hermione tutted. "While you were in bed, getting better, I came up with one myself. Now, it's going to be a little difficult considering you haven't practiced and I didn't have a partner, but we'll manage. We're just going to have to do a lot of improvising."

"I…don't think this is a good idea," Harry said as his heart sped up nervously. "I mean my body is still very weak, I don't think I can do the necessary lifts Hermione."

"Oh don't worry about that, I got that covered too!"

"How?"

"We'll be switching places." Harry's eyes widened as he took a step back.

"What?"

"Just for today! Don't worry."

"Can you even lift me?"

"Of course, you're like a twig anyway." Hermione walked over to Harry with determination as Harry cowered away from her. He was not in the mood to be dropped on his face. Nope, no way. Pressing his back against the bookshelf, Harry raised the duster in defense.

"Oh, quit being a baby," Hermione reprimanded as she rolled her eyes. She closed the distance between them, placed her hands on his hips and lifted him from the ground, though with a little bit of effort.

"See?" Harry looked down, his heart twanging in his chest. 'So this is what it feels like. How does Hermione handle doing this all of the time? This is freaky.'

"Whoa, Hermione, you're kind of scary," Ron commented as Hermione set Harry back down. "I didn't know you had strength like that."

"And what do you think we do in dance class all day? Pixie twirls?"

"Uh…no, I guess not," Ron said with a grin. "Would you be able to lift me?" Harry watched as Hermione looked Ron over; his long arms, his long legs, his big feet and hands. He knew for sure that _he_ wouldn't be able to lift him.

"No," she said. "

"Aw, why not?"

"Because you're a giant. You'd flatten me." Ron pouted slightly but didn't press the matter any further.

"Okay, fine, but do you guys need a ride or not?"

"No."

"Yes." Hermione shot a look at Harry. Harry just shrugged. "What Hermione? I don't feel like walking there today. It's too far!"

"But Harry," Hermione whispered.

"But what?" Harry gazed evenly into Hermione's eyes. He didn't feel like dealing with this today. He still felt too sick and tired for it.

Hermione glared heatedly at Harry but he could see that she was relenting. She was concerned about Harry over exerting himself too much as well.

"Alright, fine," Hermione huffed. "But only because you're still weak Harry. Not because I want to."

"Great, that's settled then. Shall we get going?" Ron asked as he clapped his hands together.

"Well, I need to finish up here," Harry said. "And tell Ms. Pince that I need to leave for awhile."

He quickly finished up his task and shelved a few new orders of books; Ron and Hermione went to sit up at the front counter to wait for him. When he was finished he headed into the backroom where Ms. Pince was taking up a tally of recent sales.

"Ms. Pince?" Harry asked as he peeked around the door. The woman looked up from her work and peered at him from over her glasses.

"Yes?"

"I've finished everything and I was wondering if I could leave early; I got a dance thing."

"Oh, sure Harry! Go on, have fun!"

"Thanks," he replied with a grin and shut the door. He walked back across the shop to where Ron and Hermione were. He noticed with a sly grin that they were sitting closer than he was sure they ought to be. Hermione either didn't notice this or was ignoring it.

'Or enjoying it,' Harry thought a bit cheekily, but didn't dare to voice it.

"Okay, I'm ready," he announced. Both Ron and Hermione jumped at his voice and turned to look at him.

"Right, let's get this show on the road!" Ron exclaimed and stood up. They all grabbed their coats from the hooks by the door and headed out. It was a sunny day but it was still cold.

They shuffled out of the shop in a group and Ron led them down to where he had parked his car.

"It's not much," he said as they stopped by an old beat up truck from what looked about the late sixties. Hermione raised an eyebrow at Ron.

"It's a bit…" she paused, thinking for the right word, "Rusted."

"It's been in the family forever," Ron said as he patted the top of the car. "My brother's, Fred and George, had it last." He opened the passenger side door and looked at them.

"Well, hop in." Harry and Hermione looked at each other skeptically. The truck looked like a death trap.

"Uh…"

"What?"

"Nothing," they both muttered and walked over. Hermione pushed Harry in first so he would be sitting next to Ron. Glowering at her, he scooted over so she could get in. Ron slammed the door and jogged over to the driver's side. He slid in as well and shut his door. It was, to say the least, a tight squeeze. Harry felt like a sardine packed tightly in a can.

"A bit cramped," Ron commented as he started the car. The engine stuttered and rolled over a few times before finally springing to life. It didn't sound very healthy. "But at least it works."

'Says you,' Harry thought bitterly as he felt Hermione's elbow jamming into his ribs due to the close proximity. He'd pay her back for this somehow.

Ron pulled out onto the street and switched on the radio. The car was suddenly thudding with loud Eagle's music. Harry and Hermione shared a look. 'I didn't know Ron was into 70's music. Guess you learn new things every day.'

Ears ringing and body slowly turning numb, Harry wiggled around and thought about what they were about to do. He just hoped they didn't turn out looking like complete fools; to many it would seem a big joke if two dancers were to walk in with hardly any preparation and just a bunch of improvisation.

'Well, Hermione seems confident,' he assured himself. 'But, then again, whenever she's feeling confident it's _always_ bad news for me.'

"So where's this dancing place at?" Ron asked as he peered over his steering wheel.

"It's a studio Ronald," Hermione exasperated. "And take a left just up there."

Ron nodded and did as he was told. Harry, wriggling to sit up straighter, looked over the dashboard and saw the familiar building come into view. It seemed ages since he had been there, and he was suddenly looking forward to dancing again.

As they neared, they all sat quietly, save for Ron spouting out song lyrics at random on occasion, until they pulled up the studio. Ron parked the car and turned off the engine.

"Well, we're here, safe and sound," he told them. "Just like I promised.

"You didn't promise…"

"Hermione, please, get out, I can't breathe," Harry cut across her, impatient for her to move.

"Oh, right," Hermione nodded and opened the door and stumbled out. Harry followed stiffly. Once his feet were on the sidewalk, he swayed a bit. He stretched, his bones cracking and creaking in protest; his left arm was tingling as feeling came rushing back to it.

"Okay Ron, thanks for the ride but you can go now," Hermione said, waving him off.

"But I want to watch."

"Well you can't."

"Why not?"

"Because you just can't," Hermione gritted out.

"I don't mind Hermione," Harry said. "I don't see why he can't watch. He did do us a favor after all."

Hermione's mouth opened and closed a few times like a fish out of water; she seemed at a loss for a comeback.

"Fine!" she shouted, throwing her hands up into the air. "Just _don't_ get into the way." Ron grinned at Harry.

"Thanks mate," he said as he slapped Harry on the back. Harry jerked forward as his back prickled with pain. Ron obviously didn't know his own strength. Shaking it off, Harry followed Hermione through the door and up the stairs to the second floor landing, Ron right behind.

They walked through the door to their studio and saw Miss Miranda there showing a couple of kids, who looked to be about seven, a few basic dance steps. She looked up when they entered and waved at them, signaling to them that she'll be done in a few minutes.

They nodded and took a seat on one of the benches to watch. Harry's nervousness suddenly hit him again the longer they sat there.

"Hermione, I really don't know about this," he whispered. "We're going to look like fools."

"Stop worrying so much," she told him reassuringly. "Just have fun with it."

Harry took a deep breath to calm his frantic nerves and nodded. It was only about five more minutes when the little group of kids finally finished their lesson and began packing up to leave.

"Good job today everyone. You're all doing so wonderfully! Your mommy's and daddy's will be so proud!" The little kids looked happy about their achievements and gave Miss Miranda hugs on the way out. When the last kid finally left, she turned to them.

"Okay you two," she said, her eyes landing on Ron. "Er…who's he?"

"Nobody."

"A friend."

"Ah, I see, well I assume you guys are prepared?"

'Define prepared,' Harry thought. But he nodded with Hermione nonetheless.

"Good! Come up here please." The two stood up and walked into the middle of the dance room. Harry bent over, slipped off his sneakers and tossed them to the side of the room. Shaking his arms and getting the kinks of out of his legs, he waited for the cue to start.

"And did you bring your music?" Harry shot a look at Hermione.

"M-music?" He didn't know they were supposed to bring music.

"Well you can't very well dance without music now can you?"

"Uh…" 'What are we gonna do?'

"We didn't bring any music…" Hermione looked horrified.

"Hey, I got something you guys can use!" Ron called across the room and stood up. He dug around in his pocket and produced a cassette. Grinning, he tossed it to Harry.

"That's my favorite song," he told them. "It'll be great."

"Er…thanks," Harry said, shrugging and giving it to Miss. Miranda.

Harry and Hermione got into position, with Hermione as the leader. Miss Miranda popped the cassette into her player and turned up the volume. It was a few moments of silence before the music beat picked up and the sounds of "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" by Cyndi Lauper filled the room.

Harry and Hermione both shot a "you've got to be kidding" look at Ron. But he was just nodding his head along with the music, oblivious to the looks he was receiving.

"Ookkay, we're going to need a LOT of improvising Harry," Hermione told him. Harry suddenly lost all confidence.

"Any time children," Miss Miranda called over the music, swaying to the beat as well. 'She just _had_ to be a Cyndi Lauper fan,' Harry thought, hoping that this would go to their advantage.

Hermione grabbed Harry's hand and moved him into position again before they finally started moving. It was really awkward at first; Hermione wasn't as good of a leader as she made herself out to be and Harry was having a hard time following her. They kept bumping into each other and making ungraceful spins and turns. Harry stumbled into Hermione coming out of a free spin and Hermione kept stepping on his toes; her body kept instinctively doing the "follower" steps. But eventually they got the hang of it.

Harry, feeling himself let go, just let Hermione take the lead. She seemed to be getting the whole thing down herself and led him through the steps she had come up with. The music bumped off the walls and they could feel the vibrations of it in their ears and under their feet. Since the music had a fast beat, they had to make a few moderations to the moves they were trying to pull off. Harry's weak body was trying it's best to keep up with his feet.

Getting into the spirit, they sped up their movements. Hermione turned into a slow right tuck; she quickly spun to the right twice, and both of them stepped backward slowly. Their bare feet slid across the floor, squeaking as they continued their completely random dance. When it came time to do a lift, Hermione got into it and lifted Harry perfectly and neatly off the ground. She spun around a couple of times with him in the air; Harry felt unsure and a little wobbly but he trusted Hermione. He felt relieved when she set him down though.

He performed a rock step while Hermione quickly lunged forward on her left; she pushed open on his back and led him through a quick underarm turn, thus launching him forward into a slow half-right turn. Then came the fun part; Hermione did a tight quick tuck, wrapped her left leg around Harry and gave his butt a kick with her foot; she then put her left foot down and bent him backward before quickly pulling him up and doing another rock step.

Harry walked backwards six times while Hermione walked forward with him, adding twists to her steps as she did so. They were grinning at each other and Hermione gave Harry a wink.

Performing a few more mixtures of types of dance steps and lifts, they neared the end of the routine. After one more lift, she set him down and they slid into a completely random ending pose: both of them on their knees with their hands in the air and their fingers wiggling about, giving a little 'jazz' to the move. Miss Miranda cut off the music at that. They couldn't help but burst out laughing at how completely silly they looked at the moment.

After they all regained their composure and came to their senses, Miss Miranda applauded and walked over to them. Hermione got to her feet and helped Harry up. Harry was breathing rather heavily and his lungs ached a bit but he couldn't help but grinning. 'That was fun!'

"Well…that was certainly different," she said as she patted them both on the shoulders. "And it was fun to watch."

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other; they hoped that meant a good thing.

"I don't think I've ever seen such a mixture of so many types of dances before; your lines were very good, after you got the hang of it of course, but you weren't completely on beat with the music."

Harry felt his heart flutter. They would lose points for that; that was for sure.

"But that's to be expected considering you obviously didn't know what music you were going to dance to. Also, the unexpected role switch was a bit refreshing to see. Hermione, it really showed off your strength, and Harry it showed your ability to improvise and put faith into your partner. Good job both of you."

Hermione hugged Harry, the two of them still panting heavily and sweat rolling down their faces in trails. Harry could see the happiness and excitement written all over Hermione's face.

"I'll tell you of my decision next dance practice. Until then, great work, really."

Miss Miranda handed Ron his cassette back while Hermione and Harry basked in their accomplishment. They both couldn't believe they pulled it off; it had seemed like a long shot but their dancing skills really pulled through for them.

"That was cool guys," Ron complimented as they walked from the room a few minutes later. "I don't know what half of that stuff was but it was wicked for sure."

"Thanks Ron," Harry said. He nudged Hermione, subtly of course. Hermione glared at him but sighed in defeat.

"Thanks Ronald," Hermione said in a flat, monotone voice. "Your compliments are so very kind."

"No problem Herms. Now, how about we all go out for pizza? I'm starved."

"Sounds good to me."

"I don't know. My parents probably want me home…"

"Aw c'mon _Herms,_" Harry said, emphasizing the nickname Ron had given her. "You hardly ever get out."

"But Harry…"

"But nothing; besides, I'm rather hungry myself. Pizza sounds great."

"Oooh alright, but you owe me one."

"Fine with me!"

"So you guys are in?" Ron was standing by his car with his keys in his hands.

"Yup."

Hermione only grumbled as they all piled back into Ron's old rickety rusty tin can. At least, that's what Hermione started calling it. They pulled out and drove down the street, all the while blasting more 70's music out the windows. Hermione didn't seem to be in a very good mood.

---

That mood persisted throughout the night; occasionally though as they sat around a booth in the local pizza parlor, she would laugh and join in with the conversation. But it was safe to say she wasn't pleased about being forced into this. Or pretending at not being pleased, Harry mused thoughtfully.

He busied himself with peeling off all of the cheese on his pizza and scraping the sauce off before putting it back together again.

"Harry what in the world are you doing?" Hermione asked as she eyed the catastrophe that was Harry's slice.

"I don't like pizza sauce," he said with a shrug as he took a bite. "You know that."

"Well, why didn't you just order _without_ sauce, instead of making a mess?" Harry just shrugged again and ate his food. Ron was on his fifth slice while both Hermione and Harry worked their way through their second.

When they were finished, they all chipped in on the bill. Ron looked a bit embarrassed at the fact that he put in the least, despite being the one inviting them out. Hermione was the only one there with a substantial amount of pocket money, and therefore paid for most of it. This didn't lighten her mood very much.

Tossing her napkin onto her plate, she stood up and excused herself to the washroom. Ron leaned back in the booth and patted his stomach, which looked quite bloated. Harry was feeling rather full himself and sighed at the feeling.

"So Harry, does Hermione ever talk about me?" Ron asked as he looked across the booth at Harry, who was in turn staring out the window. He gave Ron an odd stare before starting to chew on his tongue.

"Um, sometimes I guess. But mostly about how annoying you are."

"Oh."

"Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

"Is it about how you guys broke up?"

"Sort of. I guess I just miss her."

"Tell her that."

"I try but for some reason it's started to get really hard to find her."

"Maybe you aren't looking in the right places."

"Yeah…maybe."

"What are you two talking about?" Hermione cut in as she walked back over to the table. She had her hands on her hips and was giving them both suspicious glares.

"Nothing Herms," Harry answered. "Just talking."

"Oh. Well I think it's time we head back. We've been out for nearly three hours."

"Okay," Harry said as he glanced out the window. It was getting dark, the sun was setting; checking his watch, he realized with surprise that it was getting close to eight. Had they really been out all day like that?

"Yeah, you're right. Mr. and Mrs. Granger must be wondering where we are."

"I think I'll go find a payphone and call them up really quick to let them know we're coming home." Harry and Ron nodded as Hermione quickly walked to the back of the parlor where the bathrooms and payphones were.

They waited for her just outside the door; Harry wrapped his arms around himself; it got colder and colder as the darker it became. When Hermione finally came back, his fingers were feeling numb.

"Okay, let's go," Hermione said. Once again, they all climbed into Ron's truck; he was having a hard time getting the heating system to work, and in the end just gave up and drove on home. Harry suddenly felt glad they were all sitting so closely; Hermione's and Ron's body warmth on either side of him came as a relief.

It took about twenty minutes to get to Hermione's house; Ron stopped the car next to it and got out to open the door for them. He held it open as Hermione and Harry climbed out.

"Thanks for taking us out Ron," Harry said with a smile.

"No problem."

"See you."

"Bye Ron."

They waved bye as Ron got back into his truck, started the car and drove into the night, oldies music blaring as he did so. They waited until the last echo of his car disappeared before they started walking up to the house.

Harry walked silently, contemplating. He reached his hand up to his neck, but was surprised when his fingers didn't meet the usual cool metal of a chain or the smooth texture of the angel. Stopping in his tracks, he pulled at the collar of his shirt and looked down at his chest. He felt around frantically, but he didn't find it anywhere. He searched through his pockets and looked around on the ground.

"Harry? What's the matter?"

"My necklace Hermione! It's not on me anymore."

"What? Where do you think you lost it?"

"I don't know…"

"When was the last time you were sure you still had it on?"

"I don't know!"

"Well think."

"Um," Harry searched through his mind. Where did he last remember having it? "The…the bookstore!" Harry hurriedly turned and made his way down the street in the direction of the central shopping district.

"Harry! Where are you going?"

"To get my necklace," he called back.

"It's dark! It's too late. You'll get in trouble. Wait until tomorrow!"

"No, I'm gonna get it back tonight."

"Fine! But don't expect me to follow you on your little insane quest."

"Whatever." Harry kept walking. He was pretty sure Hermione wasn't going to follow him. He knew that this was probably a stupid idea but it wasn't curfew yet and he really wanted to get his necklace back.

He turned a corner and continued walking. The chilly night was pressing down on him and he hunched his shoulders, trying to keep as much warmth as he could.

It was a rather long walk and Harry couldn't help but feel nervous. It wasn't too wise to always be walking around at this time. He had done it a few times, doing overtime things for Ms. Pince but he tried not to make a habit of it. He gave a shot at keeping his mind from becoming frantic by thinking of other things;

His feet echoed off the empty streets; the street lights all flickered on and dimly lit the dark alleys and walkways. They only served to cast menacing looking shadows all around him.

When he reached the shop, he peered through the window and noticed all of the lights were off and the door was locked; 'Ms. Pince must have left already.' He fumbled around in his pocket for the key she had given him to the shop. Unlocking the door, he walked inside and headed directly to the rows of books.

He bent low as he walked, searching closely at the floor. He went slowly through every aisle he had cleaned earlier that day. He even got down on his hands and knees a few times and felt around underneath cracks and between cases. He crawled on his knees, running his hands over the smooth ground, checking every crack, corner and crevice.

Finally, after searching through several rows, he saw something glinting down on the ground. He hurried over to it and bent down; letting out a huge sigh of relief, he picked up the necklace by the chain.

'Thank God,' he thought as he reached around his neck and put it back on. Feeling relieved and happy at the familiar weight of the angel pressing against his chest, he started walking back towards the door. He stopped dead however, when the sounds of the door opening and people walking in met his ears.

"Stupid old lady left it unlocked," a gruff voice said.

"Just makes it easier for us," another, smoother one replied.

"Whatever guys, can we just get this done?" Harry pressed himself against one of the bookshelves and listened intently; they sounded like they were going to rob the place. Harry's heart thudded against his ribcage painfully. He was stuck there!

"Right, you get the register while we stand watch alright?" There were some low murmurs before feet thudded against the wood floor and there were the sounds of a cash register being forced open

Harry didn't know what to do; here was the place he worked at getting robbed and all he could do was hide. Should he try to run? Should he try to stop them? What if they were armed? Would it best to just stay quiet and hide until they left? All of the possible outcomes to each scenario ran through Harry's mind, and oddly enough, each ended with him getting caught and hurt horribly.

'How comforting; thank you imagination,' Harry thought, surprised at his ability to be sarcastic with himself at such a moment.

He tiptoed as quietly as he could down the row and peered around one of the cases. He could vaguely make out a group of darkly clad people standing around. A couple of them were quite large, which made Harry exceedingly nervous. Even the two smallest ones were taller than he was.

'Well I guess hiding and waiting sounds like the best choice right now.' He clutched the edge of the shelf and tried to keep to the shadows as much as possible. He watched as they snatched money from the register drawer. It seemed to be taking much longer than it should have; it was an extreme relief to Harry when he saw them finish their business.

"Alright, let's get out of here."

"That was easier than expected."

"Yeah, no alarm or anything. Can you believe that stupid bitch?" Harry's ears rang with the insult aimed at Ms. Pince but did not make a move to do anything about it.

The group of people moved towards the door and were just about to leave when Harry's lungs suddenly itched and filled to burst.

'Oh no, not now, please,' he thought frantically, trying to hold back until they were gone. But it become too much and Harry accidentally let out one small cough as it clawed at his throat.

All movement from the others in the shop stopped as the group looked sharply around for the source of the sound.

'Shit,' Harry cursed as he pressed himself against the bookcase as much as he could. He closed his eyes and tried to hold his breath. His heart was beating so loudly he was sure that the others could hear it as well. 'They're going to find me.'

"Did you hear that?"

"Yeah, what was that?"

"It sounds like someone's in here."

"What should we do?"

"Check around; look in every corner and behind every shelf if you have to," one of them ordered.

'He must be the leader,' Harry thought. The boy talked with such a commanding tone.

Harry moved back even farther when he heard the others beginning their search. They were starting on the opposite end of the shop from him. He wondered if he could make a get away once they were all out of view. He glanced around the corner once again and noticed the two smaller ones standing near the door.

'Damn, I'd never get out with them standing there.' Thinking fast, Harry grabbed one of the books from off of the shelf, and after taking a deep breath, chucked it down the row next to his. He looked again and saw the two near the door look at each other and then run after the noise.

'Now's my chance,' he told himself. Not hesitating a moment more, lest he miss his chance, he darted from behind the bookcase and made straight for the door. His feet pounded loudly against the floor as he did so, surely attracting the attention of everyone else present.

"Hey, there he is!"

"Get him! He's heading for the door." Harry heard thunderous footsteps gaining on him as they all ran after him. The door was getting closer and closer; just as he reached it and closed a hand around the knob he felt someone grab him around the waist and throw him backwards, away from it.

Harry landed hard and slid across the floor. Wincing in pain, he made to get up again, only to find himself surrounded by five large figures. He looked up all of them from his spot on the floor, his expression fierce and determined in spite of the fear he actually felt.

"Look what we got here," one of them chuckled. "A little rat."

"What should we do with him?"

"Make sure he doesn't talk."

"How we gonna do that?"

"How do you think?" came the reply. Harry watched as the figure reached into its pocket and pulled something out. The sound of a switchblade being opened met his ears and his heart leapt to his throat.

He felt two separate sets of large hands grab his arms and haul him up to a standing position.

"So, you gonna stay quiet little rat?" the one he assumed to be the leader asked. Harry squinted hard, trying to see past the darkness and into the persons face. But it was to no avail; he couldn't make out any of their facial features.

Harry just strained and struggled against his hold. When he realized the two holding him were just too strong, he settled for glaring at them.

"Feisty little guy we got here," the boy said as he traced his knife across Harry's cheek. Harry felt warm blood trickle down his skin as the blade sliced through it.

"Can you hurry up? We gotta get out of here," another voice cut in, this one strongly familiar. Harry didn't want to believe it. 'No, it can't be. It's just someone with a similar voice.'

"You wanna take care of it then?" the first boy asked.

"Fine," the other said as shoved his way through the circle. He stopped in front of Harry. His face was in the shadows and a hood was pulled up over his head but Harry could make out bits of blonde hair from underneath it.

"Draco?" he whispered unbelievingly.

"Huh, does this kid know you?"

The boy moved closer and his face came into the light; Harry gasped when he recognized Draco's face immediately.

"It is you!" he yelled out furiously. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Harry?" Draco asked, surprise written all over his face. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here," Harry spat. "What's your excuse?"

"Listen, please…"

"Fuck you." Harry spat on Draco's face. Draco winced and wiped it away, staring at Harry with shock…and, hurt?

"So it's that sick kid from the other day huh? Draco, don't let this little fuck mess with you like that, take care of him," the other one ordered harshly. Draco looked at Harry with an unreadable expression. Harry just stared back, feeling more pissed off than he ever had.

"What are you going to do to me you dirty thief?" Harry questioned, struggling against his captors once again. Draco's face hardened with anger.

"Shut up Harry," he growled. "You always talk about things you don't understand."

"Oh, I understand this fucking perfectly!" Harry jerked forward and finally broke free from the hold. He lunged at Draco and knocked him to the ground. The blonde boy let out a grunt as his back hit the floor and Harry fell on top of him.

"Hey!" the others yelled as they grabbed Harry off of Draco and kicked him to the floor. The leader walked up to him with a twisted expression on his face.

"You just fucked up little rat," he mocked. He then kicked Harry in the face with his shoe. Harry fell to the floor again, grabbing his face in pain. His lip busted open and began bleeding freely. The boy raised the switchblade, looking about ready to use it on him.

"What the fuck! Stop it," Draco yelled as he grabbed the other boy's arm. "Let's just get out of here."

"And let him rat on us? I don't think so Draco." Harry looked between them with anger and confusion. Was Draco trying to protect him? But Harry didn't have much time to contemplate on it as he felt something hit him hard on the head. He fell to the floor in a crumpled unconscious heap.

---

When Harry came to, the first thing he noticed was the amount of pain he was in. His lip was caked with dry blood and his head was throbbing and splitting with agony. The next thing he realized was that he was on the floor.

'Why am I on the floor?' He felt disoriented and confused. Sitting up and wincing, he looked around and found he was in the bookshop.

'What…? Harry scrunched up his eyebrows before the memories came crashing down on him. 'Draco! Draco was here and…and he was robbing the place with four other guys.'

Harry felt something sink inside his stomach; he had thought Draco was at least a decent guy. But now that he saw his true colors, he didn't know what to think.

'He seemed so defeated though,' he thought as he struggled to his feet. He swayed a bit on the spot and looked around. Moonlight filled the store and cast shadows across the polished floor. 'What should I do?" He spotted the phone on the counter.

'I guess I should call the police.' He picked up the receiver and dialed the number. It rang a few times before an operator picked up.

"Hello? Yeah, I need to report a robbery…" Harry twirled the cord around his finger as he told the receptionist the necessary information.

When he hung up the phone, he stared out the window while he waited for the police to show up. He tried to keep his mind void of any thought. He kept it busy by humming that lullaby he had been thinking of earlier. It somehow comforted him through everything that had just happened. It was like a mother's caress; he tried to imagine it was his mother, or even Mrs. Granger, singing it to him.

_'There were two birds sat on a stone;_

_Fa la la la lal de;_

_One flew away and then there was one;_

_Fa la la la lal de;_

_The other flew after and then there was none;_

_Fa la la la lal de;_

_And so the poor stone was left all alone;_

_Fa la la la lal de!'_

Harry sighed as he remembered the last line to the tune. It rang empty through his mind. He felt like the stone at that moment; alone and hollow.

---

After the police had finished questioning Harry, they offered to give him a ride home. He stared blankly at his lap as he thought through the whole ordeal; the police had questioned him for nearly twenty minutes. They had asked him if he knew who the robbers were or if he had seen their faces. Harry, feeling conflicted about the whole situation, had said 'no'. He didn't know why he hadn't just turned the bastard in, but he couldn't find it in his heart to do so.

Harry walked up to Hermione's house with slow sluggish steps. The porch light came on, blinding him with the sudden brightness as the door flew open.

"Harry!" Hermione screeched as she threw herself on him. "I was so worried when you hadn't come home! And then the police called us and I swear mum had a heart attack."

Harry felt guilty about causing worry once again.

"I'm sorry 'Mione," Harry said through a yawn.

"Come inside, you look dead on your feet." Harry nodded in agreement. She led him through the door and shut it behind them.

_And so the poor stone was left all alone._

* * *

Author's Note: Now THIS is the longest chapter I've written for ANY of my stories. It's over seven thousand words. Good lord!

As for dedication, this one goes to **Insanely Evil Kitty Cat**, because well, she's insane, she's evil, she's a kitty cat. What more could you want? . And because she's an awesomely dedicated reviewer who rocks my socks! Thank you.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

The knocking was soft as he rapped his knuckles against the hard wood of the door. He looked around the hallway as he stood there, waiting for the door to be answered. It was a large five story apartment building and not quite as run down as a lot of the others were. It was a place for a person who wasn't exactly well off but with enough money to be comfortable. The floor beneath his feet was wooden and the walls of the hallway he stood in were a washed out gray.

Draco waited for at least five minutes before the door finally opened and revealed a man in his mid thirties. He had long, greasy dark hair, sallow skin and a hooked nose, all of which gave him an overall unpleasant appearance. The thing that stood out the most to him however was the glittering black eyes that seemed to be always narrowed with distaste.

"Draco. What are you doing here?" the man asked him.

"I just needed a place to hide out in for awhile Severus," Draco told him. Severus looked him over, apparently taking in Draco's shabby attire, disheveled hair and the distinct aura of discomfort and nervousness about him.

"Why? What happened this time?" Severus asked. Draco tried to meet the man squarely in the eye but always found this a lot harder than it was with other people. The man just had that affect on people; he could make even the most stone-hearted person get shaky knees around him.

"I just don't want to go home," Draco said with a shrug. He turned his head sideways and eyed the part of the wall where it connected with the floor. He noticed the bits of flaking paint that were peeling from it.

"Alright, come in," Severus said with a sigh and opened the door wider. Draco just nodded and walked in, knowing he wasn't exactly welcome. Severus was one of the school teachers, and really the only one Draco felt he could talk to. This was one of the few places he felt he could come and clear his head for a bit. And while that was true, Severus liked his privacy and didn't enjoy it when Draco stopped in too much. This was why the blond tried not to make a habit of it.

The tall man closed the door softly behind as Draco stopped and took a look around. The apartment was small; it held only one bedroom, a sitting room, a bathroom and a tiny kitchen. There were two windows that gazed out and gave perfect views of the city; he had bookshelves lining the walls, all filled to the last inch with thick research books. Most were on the subjects of chemistry and astronomy. The man had an aptitude for science.

He spotted a brown sofa in the middle of the sitting room with a table beside it. The table held a telephone and a couple of notepads. He looked across the room and noticed where a television would usually be, the man had a little radio, which Draco assumed he must listen to quite a bit.

"Well, you may take a seat," Severus said from behind him. "I was just in the middle of working out some star calculations. So please refrain from making too much noise."

Draco nodded; that was what he liked about the man. Severus knew personal space, as the man enjoyed it himself; and he never asked too many questions. It was almost as if Severus could sense when a person just needed time to cool down and gain control again.

Severus Snape went back to the small kitchen table that was covered in piles of books, papers with diagrams and calculations written on them and several pens and pencils that had run out of ink or been used down to the stub. Oddly enough, everything seemed extremely organized, despite how much there was.

Draco walked across the room and browsed the bookcases of books. _Introduction to Chemistry, Analytical Chemistry, Ancient Astronomers, the Book of the Cosmos,_ were just a few of the many topics that his eyes scanned over. He let his fingers glide over the spines of the books; some felt old and worn, while others felt glossy and barely used. Just from that Draco was able to tell which books Severus read the most.

Drumming his fingers against his thigh, he randomly chose a book from the shelf and shot a look at Severus. The man was sitting straight in his chair, his long fingers held a pen in his hand as he quickly scribbled information in one of his note logs.

Draco tucked the book under his arm and made his through the sitting room and through the door connected. It led into Severus's room; it looked quite like the living room from which he had just left. It had a single bed, a desk with a lamp, a chair and three large bookshelves packed with even more books.

'He practically owns a library,' Draco mused as he spotted a window on the only wall that wasn't taken up with shelves of books. He walked over to it and pushed up the heavy window. He looked out and found the fire escape he liked to sit on whenever he came to this place; he also saw Severus's personal telescope set up out there as if it had just been recently used the night before.

He swung his leg over the window sill and ducked his body through the opening. Standing up straight once he was fully outside, he went to the edge of the fire escape and looked down. With his fingers wrapped around the cool metal of the safety bars, he watched as people went about their daily Sunday business. It was a surprisingly warm day considering the recent weather, so children were outside, running around and playing with their feet bare and shirts forgotten.

Draco sat down with his legs crossed and his back leaning against the bars; it was one of his favorite spots to sit. One could see a whole view of the street below but none would be able to look up and see someone sitting there. This was because a giant maple tree grew beside the building, reaching up to the fire escape and providing shelter and shade. Draco watched as the little maple-leaf shadows danced across his skin and clothing.

He set the book down on his lap and cracked it open to a random page; as he had expected, it was filled with things on exploring the stars, different constellations and movements of the planets. He let his eyes wander over the words lazily, not really taking any of it in; it was mostly just for something to do, or at least pretend to do.

Finally getting bored of about ten minutes of that, Draco looked up from the book and stared through the bars down at the street. Boys were playing ball, occasionally having to get out of the way for a car; girls were playing hand games, chanting rhymes and sitting on steps playing with their dolls. Elderly people were walking together or sitting in chairs outside their homes, enjoying the warm sunshine just like everyone else.

He idly watched as a group of school-aged boys all pulled their spare change together and bought a cheap bottle of cola from a tiny store on the corner of the avenue. They opened the bottle and took turns taking drinks from it. This was a normal thing to see on warm days; kids sharing drinks or drinking from water hoses as different ways of cooling down.

Draco turned away from the scene. There wasn't much else to look at; everyone was doing their thing like normal people while he holed up and hid from the world behind a giant maple tree.

The bars dug painfully into his back as his eyes followed people walking down the streets. The rumble of car engines, the loud bumping of music from a nearby window, the distant chatter and laughter of children; everything continued on, the world kept going and will probably continue to do so for quite some time.

'The world is forgetting about me,' Draco thought. 'Or am I forgetting about the world?' He seemed so disconnected from everything else; like the world was moving a lot faster than he was. 'Or maybe I'm not moving at all. Maybe I'm at a standstill in my life.'

He looked at his watch: it was still pretty early. The sound of church bells tolled somewhere from far away and he realized the few people who went to church would be getting out by now. He wondered how long he planned to stay there; Severus probably didn't want him to stick around for very long and Draco knew he couldn't just hide behind the man all day. It wasn't that he was afraid, he just didn't want to face the world that day. He somehow felt as if he had betrayed it; the look in the boy, Harry's, eyes when he saw him last night showed betrayal, anger, hate, and pity.

Draco didn't want pity; certainly not for things he did wrong. But he also didn't want to see such emotions in those startling green eyes. It didn't seem to fit. He wasn't sure why it worried him so; why should he care? Let the boy hate him, let him be angry and feel betrayed. It was no concern to him right?

But it had been the first time ever that someone from the outside world had seen what he really does for a living; and for some reason it really opened his eyes to exactly what he was doing to the rest of the world. Cheating it over. Taking the easy way out.

Resting his temples against the cool bars, Draco let the sun filter down on him and give him warmth. He continued to watch the street life going on down below, not taking interest in anything particular. It was all the same; every person looked the same. They were all blurs of nameless and faceless people, doing whatever it was that they did with their lives. He sat up straight, however, when his eyes landed on two figures across the road.

'It's them!' he thought as he recognized the dark messy of hair of the boy and the bushy brown hair of the girl. They were standing around a music shop window, chatting about something he couldn't hear.

He watched the boy closely; the way his lips formed the words, the way his hands moved about as he spoke and the way the sunlight seemed to reflect off of the window and glow around him. His pale skin seemed luminescent and he could almost see his green eyes sparkling and shining.

Even though he was sure neither could see him, let alone look in his direction, he still pressed further back against the bars. He didn't want to deal with Harry right then; he knew the boy was pissed. It was a surprise he hadn't turned Draco in yet. He had wondered about that; any normal person would have pointed him out the moment they got the chance.

"Draco," a silky voice said from inside the apartment. Draco jumped slightly and tore his eyes away from Harry and towards the man standing at the window. "What are you doing?"

"Just…watching things," he answered.

"Well, if you're done with that, would you like to join me for tea?"

"Sure, thanks." The man nodded and disappeared from the window and back into the room. Draco gave a brief glance at where he had seen Harry and Hermione, noticing they were still standing there and talking. Shaking his head, he stood up and stretched all of the kinks out of his back.

He climbed back through the window opening and walked into the sitting room. Re-shelving the book he had taken, he looked to where Snape was standing in the small kitchen and putting a tea pot on the stove.

Draco pulled back one of the chairs by the small table, the scraping of the legs against the tiles catching Severus's attention, and waited for the man to finish. Severus turned the gas knob for the stove on and turned to the boy at his table.

"So," he said, walking over and clearing the space of his studies. "Anything you would like to talk about?"

"Well…" Draco said softly as he watched Severus take a seat across from him. The ticking of the wall clock penetrated the silence along with the sounds of the gas stove running. Severus merely linked his fingers together and gazed steadily at the young man across from him.

"I just needed a place to come and think," Draco answered.

"I see." Severus waited for him to continue.

"I-I did something last night and someone…saw me."

"Would this someone happen to be a friend?"

"NO! I mean, well, no not really. He's just an…acquaintance."

"Then what is the bother?"

"I guess I'm worried."

"About what he'll think?"

"Er…" Draco thought that over; did he really care what Harry thought about him? He found himself unable to give a straight answer to that; normally, the answer would be a big solid _no_ but this time there was definitely an inner turmoil going on. "I think I'm just worried what he's going to do about it."

"Oh? Perhaps you should speak to him."

"Hah. Good one Sev, I'm sure he'll scream for the cops the moment I get within a mile's radius from him."

"Draco, I don't know what you did nor am I really interested in knowing. I could care less what you do, but as you deem it worthy enough to bother me about, I say go talk to the boy."

Draco remained silent as the whistling of the water boiling met their ears; Severus got up to go deal with it while Draco mused over everything they had just discussed. He watched as the man put some tea bags into a couple of mugs and then poured hot water over them. He brought the two mugs to the table and set one down in front of Draco.

The steam rose and wafted around in the air in front of Draco, bringing the warm scent of tea to his nostrils. He placed his hands on the mug and relished in the feel of the piping heat radiating from it. It was comforting somehow and it cleared his mind.

Severus sipped his tea, his eyes scanning over a book he had open, leaving Draco to his own devices. Draco just stared down into the liquid swirling around in his mug; he could just barely make out a distorted reflection of himself.

'Is this how others see me?' he wondered. 'Am I an image of distortion and imperfection?" Bringing the mug up to his lips, he let the hot liquid pass over his tongue and down his throat, burning all the way as it went.

'I'm not going to talk to him,' he told himself abruptly and surely. 'It's not like I can really. I mean, I'd be pushing my luck if I approached the boy. I'll just have to deal with it.'

Draco suddenly felt uncomfortable about sitting at the table with Severus right across from him. It felt like his thoughts were loud enough to be heard by him (besides, he always had the distinct feeling Severus could read minds). He wanted to get out. He felt too cramped and suffocated. Setting his porcelain mug down, he scooted his chair back and stood up.

"Thanks for the tea," he said. "But I think I'm going to go now."

"Hmm," Severus hummed as he raised his tea and took another sip and then nodding in understanding; his eyes never left his book. Draco sighed and just took his leave without another word.

He closed the door behind him and looked down the desolate hallways; he wondered where everyone was that lived in this apartment. He guessed they were inside or out doing something like everyone else. It was rare to find a lot of people who'd rather spend their weekend inside than be outside enjoying their time.

His footfalls echoed dully against the floorboards as he made his way towards the staircase. He took the steps one at a time at a leisurely pace, his hands gliding over the dusty hand-rails as he descended absentmindedly. Everything seemed so empty.

He made it to the first floor landing and walked his way out of the building complex. He was instantly greeted by the bustling of the crowds of people. He worked his way through them, occasionally bumping into someone and swearing when a person stepped on his foot. He crossed the street to the other side where there was considerably less pedestrian traffic.

He looked up and noticed that Harry and Hermione were still standing in the place they had been the last he had seen them. His nerves jolted and he quickly moved out of view. He tried to blend in with the rest of the crowd by busying himself looking through a display window.

'How long do they plan to stand there?' he thought in frustration. He hunched his shoulders and tried to keep from being noticed as he listened in on the conversation he could now hear.

"I don't know where he is, he said he would pick us up," the girl's voice said.

"Maybe something came up. We'll just have to wait," Harry reasoned.

"Yeah you're right. I hope he hurries up though, I'm getting tired of standing here."

"He'll be here." There were a few moments of silence as they looked around for any signs of the person who was supposed to pick them up.

"Um Harry, are you going to tell me what happened yesterday?"

"Hermione, I told you already, I don't want to talk about it."

"But…it seems like something really serious that you should tell someone!"

"It's nothing."

"Then how come you had a busted lip and a bruise on your head and…"

"You've already gone through my lists of injuries once before Hermione; please I don't need to hear them again."

"I'm sorry! I'm just concerned."

"It's just been a terrible weekend."

"Yeah. We'll be back at school again tomorrow, that'll keep your mind busy."

"Hmm."

"By the way, have you seen any more of Draco around at school or anything? He seemed like a nice…"

"No," Harry answered flatly. "And I hope it stays that way."

"What do you mean?"

"I just don't want to be around him." Draco's ears perked up at the sudden conversation switch on him.

"Why not?"

"Because he's a no good dirty gangster." Draco's anger boiled and his mind spun with the words he heard from Harry's mouth. 'How dare he?' That was what everyone thought about him, wasn't it? He spun around on the spot and without a thought to his earlier resolution, stalked up to where the two were. At first they didn't notice him, possibly thinking he was just another face in the crowd, but as he got closer they turned their heads in his direction.

He walked right up to Harry and grabbed his forearm, gripping it tightly with his fingers. Harry looked up at him with anger and a little fright.

"What the hell_?"_ Harry spat out as he tried to loosen Draco's grip on his arm. "Let go of me."

"No." Draco was going to set this straight. "I want you to come and talk with me. Now."

"What's your problem?" Harry asked, yanking his arm from Draco's hand and stepping back. "You can't just walk up to someone, start grabbing on them and then demand to speak with them. The world doesn't work your way, _Malfoy._"

"Well you shouldn't talk about people behind their backs!"

"You were listening to our conversation? What are you doing? Spying on me?"

"No! I was just walking by and heard you talking about me. So I decided to set things straight. Come with me."

"I don't think so Malfoy. You're just trying to make sure I don't tell on you."

"Will you just stop being so fucking stubborn for once _Potter_?" If Harry was going to play the surname game, then so was he. Draco felt his patience leaving him at an alarming rate. "Just let me explain something to you. _Please_?"

"Harry, what's going on?" Hermione asked, looking back and forth from their exchange, obviously confused.

"Nothing Hermione," Harry answered. "Let's go." Harry turned his back on him, clearly not at all tempted to hear Draco out. Draco, not a person who particularly enjoyed being ignored, reached out, grabbed Harry's shoulders and spun him around.

"You said earlier you wanted to know some things about me right?" he asked him, trying to calm his anger down. He didn't want to give the boy reason to high-tail it to the police station. Harry nodded slowly, looking him over with a wary eye. "Well, now's your chance."

Harry seemed to be studying him over, weighing the pros and cons of going with Draco. He saw doubt and mistrust in those eyes. But the kid's shoulders relaxed and his face softened a bit after awhile.

"Fine," Harry agreed. "Hermione, you go ahead and wait here for Ron. I'll be home later alright?"

"But Harry…"

"Everything's fine. I just gotta talk with Mal-Draco." Hermione nodded slowly.

"Okay. See you later then Harry. Bye Draco." Harry followed Draco down the opposite direction of the sidewalk, going against the hordes of people. When they were finally out of Hermione's sight, Harry grabbed Draco's arm to stop him.

"What's all of this about?" he asked forcefully when Draco turned and looked down at him.

"Not here," Draco shook his head. "Let's find somewhere where we can talk privately."

"Oh no, I'm not going anywhere with you alone."

"Why? Are you afraid of me?" Draco didn't know why, but he didn't want Harry to be afraid of him. Usually, he thrived on the intimidation he instilled upon other people. But this time, it was different.

"I don't trust you anymore."

"You trusted me in the first place? A person you barely know?"

"Well…yeah. Everyone has a first chance you know. And well, you blew yours."

Draco rolled his eyes; Harry was asking for trouble being so trusting. There were a lot of people out there who screwed over people like him.

"Well, what about second chances?"

"What about them?"

"Don't people deserve second chances too?"

"Yeah…some…"

"Why only some?"

"Some things can't be forgiven," Harry replied as he crossed his arms over his chest and looked away.

"Just…follow me alright?" Harry nodded. He followed the taller boy down the busy walkways. Draco sighed in relief; 'at least he's going to hear me out.' He took Harry to one of the small neighborhood cafés. There were enough people walking about to make it public enough for Harry to feel safe, and private enough for Draco to be able to speak freely.

They sat down around one of the small tables outside big enough for two. A waitress came to take their orders.

"Black coffee for me."

"Just water with ice please," Harry said. The waitress smiled and nodded before heading back inside. Harry turned to Draco with a grim look.

"So, tell me now why I shouldn't head to the police and turn you in?"

"How come you didn't already?"

"I dunno, it was a just on a whim. But I could change my mind on a whim as well. So you better spill your guts."

Draco waited as the waitress came back with their orders. He thanked her and she turned and left again. He took a sip of the coffee, trying to calm his jumbling nerves before deciding to get on with the story.

"Do you ever get the feeling that everyone looks at you the same way?" Draco asked Harry. Harry had a thoughtful look on his face before he nodded. "Well, I feel that way all of the time."

"Tell me about it." It wasn't a question, but a command. Draco noticed the slightly softer tone to Harry's voice however.

Draco took a deep breath and let it all out; it helped him calm down. He felt as if everything he was feeling inside was let go with that single breath. He looked at Harry and started explaining everything.

He started with how sick his mother was; how his father drank away their money and how a single person had offered him a way out of his financial crisis through a life of crime. Harry watched him silently throughout the story and did not interrupt once. Draco would occasionally stop to take another sip of his coffee before launching back into the story.

Once he was finished, Harry just continued to look at him, running a finger around the rim of his glass of water absentmindedly.

"It still doesn't make it right," Harry finally said.

"I know."

"But…I understand how it must be trying to get through life, hoping that ends will eventually meet."

Draco suddenly wondered why type of life Harry led; he had never asked the boy about anything personal, not feeling particularly inclined to before. Now he was interested. Harry was one of the only people who had ever sat down and listened to him talk; even if it was _he_ who had done the wrong.

"I guess I forgive you."

"Huh?" Draco hadn't expected that.

"I said I forgive you."

"Why?"

"I dunno. I figure if I can have the courage and kindness to forgive someone who has done wrong, then maybe others will be able to do the same for me one day as well. Harboring grudges and hate is far too painful and consuming."

"I thought you said some things can't be forgiven."

"I just said that because I was angry."

'Why is he so forgiving? He's not like other people. He seems too nice.'

"Thanks," Draco answered.

"That and you had the courage to confront me and tell me personal things about your life. I think it's a fair exchange."

"I guess it is." Draco suddenly felt more light-hearted. Like a great weight had been lifted from him. 'I guess not everyone in the world is the same.' Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. He was just about to light it when he noticed the grimace pass across Harry's face. Sighing, Draco didn't light it and put it back. Harry smiled at him in thanks and they lapsed into another silence.

He noticed Harry was toying with that chain around his neck, rubbing the little angle with his finger tips and staring off into space.

"Why do you always wear that?"

"Oh…it was my mother's. Sometimes I feel as if she's with me whenever I'm wearing it. It's kind of like a constant reminder of her love."

"Where's your mum?"

"She died when I was very young. Same with my dad."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Draco suddenly felt uncomfortable. He didn't know how to handle other people's problems; he was barely able to handle his own.

"Hey, wanna get out of here?"

"What?"

"Go for a walk or something. Get away from all of these people."

"So you trust to be alone with me now?"

"A little."

"Only a little?"

"Yep. So what do you say?" Draco looked around and shrugged. They both stood up from their spots and paid for their drinks.

"Where we gonna go?"

"Dunno. Just start walking and we'll see where we end up." Draco raised an eyebrow at this. 'Is he looking to get himself into trouble? You don't just wander into random places in a city like this.' But he followed Harry nonetheless. The farther they walked, the thinner the traffic became and the fewer people there were. He noticed they were heading into the older part of the city. Most of the buildings were run down and deserted. Trees and plants were growing up out of the cracks in the cement and moss grew on the brick walls.

He kicked some rubble out of the way as they continued to walk until they reached the outskirts of the city, which he had never really been to. It was bare; the only things there were a few colonial style buildings, a church with a small brick wall surrounding it, and the rest was trees and a ground covered in yellow grass.

"I like coming here," Harry said. "It's quiet and you almost forget you're in a city."

"This is pretty far away. You walk here all of the time?"

"Just when I can," Harry shrugged as he climbed up on the vine covered brick wall. He balanced himself on it as he began walking across it, arms spread out. Draco thought he kind of looked like a bird trying to take flight. "And if you keep going for about another two miles, you'll reach the city limits. What's beyond that, I don't really know."

"You have really good balance," Draco commented as he walked beside Harry on the ground.

"I should. I'm a dancer after all."

"You dance?"

"Yep." Harry hopped off the wall when it came to an end. He fell to his hands and knees, but got up right away, dusting his jeans off. He grinned. The bells of the chapel behind them rang again and Harry turned around, slightly startled by the sound. He walked up to the entrance to the church, the gravel crunching under his shoes, and stared up at the old building. Rays of golden sun shot through the stained glass windows.

"I bet that looks really beautiful from inside," Harry said as he craned his neck and squinted up at the windows.

He ran his hands across a little plaque embedded onto the stone, his fingers tracing around the words encrypted on it.

_Whosoever the son of man sets free is free indeed_

"What the hell does that mean?" Draco asked as he read it over too. "It sounds like a complete contradiction."

"I guess you gotta read underneath the underneath," Harry shrugged. "I was never raised to be one with a church, so I really couldn't tell you." He turned away and walked from the building. Draco looked over the words once more before following Harry. They continued walking on, their feet crunching the yellowing grass beneath them.

"_You'll forget the sun, in its jealous sky, as we walk in fields of gold,_" Harry sang softly as he looked up at the sky through one of the trees. Specks of sunlight filtered through the leaves and shone down on the boy's face, lighting him up again. Draco thought he looked good that way.

"What are you singing?"

"Just a song I heard once," Harry shrugged. They continued walking until the path became one of dirt. The sounds of birds crowing as they flew overhead added to the peaceful atmosphere that seemed to settle around them. When they finally reached a sign in the road, they both stopped. It signaled the city limit.

"I guess this is where we stop," Harry said, staring out across the land, where in the distance one could just make out a highway with tiny specks driving a long it; he supposed those were cars.

"What are you staring at?"

"Nothing, just wondering what it would be like to set foot out of this city," Harry said as he walked up to the sign and stopped even with it. "Just one little toe. Just to know that there are other places I can go, that I can be, other than this godforsaken hell hole." Draco watched as he stared down at where his feet were lined up with the sign; he seemed to be contemplating whether or not to step across the limit and break it.

But he didn't. He just turned around and faced Draco again, a small smile on his face. "But those are just dreams I guess."

'And I know how you feel.' Draco thought.

"Let's head back yeah? Hermione is probably wondering where I am." Draco nodded and let Harry walk past him first before fallowing the boy, across the fields of gold and back to the hell hole.

----

Draco walked into his house a few hours later and the first thing that greeted him was a slap to the face. His head reeled as he unbalanced and fell against the door frame. He grabbed his cheek and looked up coldly. His father was standing there, staring at him rage.

"Where have you been all day?" the man demanded.

"Out."

"While your sorry ass has been 'out' your mother has been hollering all day for her precious son. She just won't shut up."

Draco's eyes widened as he looked past his father and towards the room his mother was in.

"What's wrong with her you jackass?" Draco asked as he shoved his father roughly. He felt like giving the man a good punch to the face but was more concerned about his mother at the moment.

Lucius just shrugged, beer in hand and a completely drunk expression on his face. Draco stomped past him and towards his mother's room. He opened the door and found his mother on the floor. Heart speeding up, he rushed to her side and pushed her onto her back.

"Mum! What happened?" The woman opened her eyes and stared up at him.

"Draco?" she asked with a dry, crackly voice.

"Yes mum, I'm here."

"Oh good."

"What happened? Why are you on the floor?"

"I was…was just trying to get another glass of water but I lost my balance and fell."

Draco growled; he bet that bastard he called a father didn't even think to help the frail woman. He gently placed his arms around his mother and lifted her from the floor. She was frighteningly light as he carried her back to the bed and set her down underneath the blanket.

"I'll get your water for you," he told her as he swept some hair from her face. He then walked out of the room and into the kitchen. He ignored Lucius sitting at the table and reached into the cabinet for a clean cup. He turned on the tap and filled the glass with water.

"So what's she bitching about this time?" the man behind him asked. The sound of a can being thrown to the ground echoed through Draco's ears but he ignored all of it. He needed to give his mother her water first.

He walked back into the room and helped Narcissa drink the water down; he held her head up so her lips could reach the cup. Water slid past her lips and down her dry throat. Draco her let her drink as much as she wanted before setting the half empty glass on the bedside table. He walked from the room without a word, too angry to speak, and shut the door. He went back into the kitchen, where Lucius was still sitting.

"I see you got her to shut up, about ti-." he was cut off as Draco walked up to him and gave him a hard punch to the jaw. The man overbalanced in his chair and fell over. Draco stood over him, bent down and grabbed the neck of the man's shirt.

"You're so lucky my mother is sleeping in the next room or I'd beat the shit out of your sorry ass." He let go of his father and let the man fall back onto the ground. He felt somewhat satisfied as the man's head banged against the floor with a loud 'clunk'. He walked from the kitchen without another word and into his own. He felt like slamming the door but he knew he needed to be quiet.

"Fucking bastard, I could kill him right now." As if Draco needed a life sentence in prison added on top of everything else; so he held back the urge. Instead he reached into his pocket and brought out a cigarette.

He lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, puffing out clouds of smoke as he did so. He calmed his mind by going over the events of that day.

_"I forgive you."_ That was the first time any one had actually said something like that to him so honestly.

He put out his cigarette and closed his eyes. Even though he wouldn't remember it by morning come, he dreamt about fields of gold and eyes of vivid green the whole night.

* * *

Author's Note: This chapter was interesting to write. I always find that Draco's chapters tend to be slightly more angsty than the Harry chapters; I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing. I hope you liked this one! It took awhile to write. At least now they're bonding. Sorta-kinda. Do you think it's moving too fast?

Anyway, as for dedication, this one goes to **SkyeEyesSparkle7135** for being a just totally awesome reviewer. I really enjoy your reviews! They're always long and thoughtful! Thank you so much!

And thank you to everyone else once again :) You're all wonderful.

See you next chapter and review please!


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Harry stumbled as he tripped over the foot in the hallway. One of the books he had been carrying fell from his hands and slid across the floor. Loud and obnoxious laughter erupted behind him as he tried to regain his footing. His eyes narrowed and jaw clenched, Harry spun around and came face to face with his cousin.

"Oops, sorry Potter," Dudley said with a huge grin as he watched Harry bend over and retrieve his book. "Didn't see you there."

"Like hell you didn't," Harry muttered as he straightened himself back up and glared at his overly-large cousin. He was surrounded by his lackeys, as usual; Harry hardly ever saw Dudley alone when they were at school. Then again, he hardly ever saw him outside of school and he counted that as a blessing. Dudley was in the same grade as him, but they had none of the same classes; his cousin took remedial courses while Harry took the regular ones.

That didn't stop Dudley from hunting him down in the hallways on occasion, just to harass him and try to get him into trouble. It had always been a favorite game of the large boy's back when they were younger: Make Harry's Life Miserable.

"What's the matter Harry? Not gonna fight back?"

"Piss off Dudley," Harry said. He ignored the guffaws coming from the buffoons around him.

"You can't talk to me like that Potter!" Dudley yelled. "You don't want me to tell _dad_ now do you?"

Harry paled considerably; Dudley often made threats like that and he often went through with them just to see Harry suffer. It was hard to tell whether or not he meant it now. But that stubborn part of the brain that Harry was unfortunately born with wouldn't let the situation drop.

"Okay Dudley, let your father handle your fights for you," Harry retorted, regaining his calm. "Real tough that is; Big bad Dudley running to his daddy." He was pushing his luck now and he knew it.

"Shut up Potter, I could beat you into the ground if I wanted to." Dudley was angry now; he was cracking his pudgy knuckles menacingly as his cronies stood around him expectantly, waiting for the blood to spill. Kids in the corridor were beginning to group around, waiting for another round of Dudley wailing on his tiny cousin. "You think you're so big, but you're just a bug."

Dudley walked up to Harry and knocked all of his books out of his hands. The books fell and scattered to the floor. There was a hush throughout the small crowd of people surrounding them; they were waiting to see what Harry would do.

"It's been awhile since I taught you a lesson," Dudley sneered. Harry glared at him, his fists clenched as he made no move to fight the bigger boy or to pick up his books and leave.

"Well aren't you going to say anything?" Dudley seemed even further enraged at Harry's silence and charged at him, meaty hands raised. He made to grab at him, but Harry ducked underneath him and sidestepped the boy. Dudley growled in frustration and made for another attack. Cheers and encouragement came from Dudley's group of friends as he started backing Harry up against the wall.

Harry look around; he saw only the faces of the jeering crowd, all hoping to see him get the stuffing knocked out of him. It made him feel like the world was closing in on him. As he continued to back up, looking for a way out, his foot caught on one of his fallen textbooks and he tripped over it. He brought his arm back to break his fall, landing hard on the ground. Everyone laughed and Dudley looked smug.

Harry rolled away just as Dudley's enormous foot came to connect with his ribs. He got up on his hands and knees and had just a moment's time to move out of the way as Dudley swung at him again. He felt like some helpless prey, dodging the other boy's attacks and advances.

Harry jumped to his feet and stumbled against the wall. He raised his leg and kicked out with it just in time as Dudley charged at him. His cousin howled in pain as his foot connected with his kneecap.

"Dudley! What are you doing?"

"Yeah Big D, pound that little squirt!" The group of kids were snickering and giggling at Dudley's display of incompetence. Dudley flushed with embarrassment and anger as he set his little eyes on Harry.

"You're gonna pay for that." He reached out for him again but Harry swerved around the hand, knocking it out of the way and made to run past Dudley. His cousin reached out his large arm and grabbed Harry by the scruff of his neck. "You're not going anywhere."

Even though Harry felt his feet leaving the ground, he just glared his cousin in the face.

"Do it then. If it makes you feel good about yourself, just do it. You've done it so many times before. At least I know I'm ten times better than you without ever having to touch you." Dudley looked at him with wide eyes; his fist was raised in the air and everything just seemed to pause for a second. Harry continued to give his cousin a hard stare, knowing full well what was about to come.

"Shut up!" Dudley screeched finally, about to bring his fist down to meet Harry's face when a hand landed on one his shoulders from behind. The fist froze inches from Harry's cheek and both turned to look at the person the hand belonged to.

Harry was shocked to say the least; there stood Draco Malfoy, face and composure calm as his eyes glittered with a hint of…_something._ His long fingers clamped down on Dudley's beefy shoulder in a sort of silent warning.

The other kids witnessing the scene immediately began whispering excitedly.

"That's Draco Malfoy."

"Malfoy?"

"I heard he _killed_ a guy; Dudley's in for it now!"

Draco didn't seem at all fazed by everything that was being said about him, he just continued to look Dudley in the eye.

"What?" Dudley spat out. Harry was still dangling in the air like a rag-doll.

"Put him down." That was all Draco said. His voice wasn't harsh or loud or threatening; it was just simple demanding statement.

"What's it to you?"

"I'm just trying to get to class like everyone else. But it makes it difficult when the hallway is blocked by a crowd of people watching a little kid get beat up."

'Little kid!' Harry protested angrily in his mind. Even though Draco was helping him out, it didn't mean he had to insult him at the same time! It was about at that time a distant sound of running feet came to their attention.

"Teachers!" Everyone pushed and shoved, trying to get out of there before the teachers showed up. Dudley was looking from down the hall and back to Draco's face, obviously trying to decide what to do. He just shrugged and threw Harry into Draco.

"Take him then. I'll have other chances," and with that, he and his other friends walked away to their classes. Harry flushed as he realized he was leaning against Draco, his hands on his arms to balance himself upright. He quickly stood straight and smoothed out his clothing.

"Sorry," he muttered in embarrassment as he began picking up all of his books from the floor. He could feel Draco's eyes on him as he did so, which only seemed to make the situation even more awkward. He looked up when several teachers arrived on the spot, looking about ready to spout out detentions.

"You two! What happened here?" one of them demanded as she pointed them out. Harry and Draco were the last two standing in the hallway and therefore were the only ones to blame.

"I was just giving Harry a helping hand," Draco said with a nonchalant shrug. "He dropped his books." He plainly pointed out the few books that were still spread out on the ground.

"Somehow, with you involved Mr. Malfoy, I highly doubt that's all that happened here."

"He didn't do anything," Harry piped up suddenly. The teachers looked over to him as he gathered up his last book. "Really."

Harry had credibility with the teachers seeing as he was hardly the trouble-making sort; they knew him as one to often find himself in troublesome situations, but never the one to start it.

"Well, if you're sure…" they seemed doubtful, as if they thought Draco was intimidating Harry into lying. Harry just gave them a smile. "Then get to class both of you!"

The teachers waited for them to gather themselves and head down the corridor with the rest of the school.

"You really are a magnet for trouble, aren't you Harry?"

"I didn't ask for your help you know," Harry said grumpily. The first time Draco had to see something like _that_ and it had to be one of the times Harry was losing.

"Yes. I'm sure you didn't need it. You looked like you were handling the situation _so_ well."

"I've dealt with it before. By myself."

"How often does that guy pick on you?"

"Ever since I can remember. He's my cousin."

"Really?" Draco looked at him, shock clearly written on his face. "I see no resemblance whatsoever."

"He gets it from his dad's side."

"Ah."

"But I guess I should thank you for helping and all."

Draco merely nodded before turning and walking up the stairs without a word. Harry watched as he ascended the steps.

"Um…okay nice talking to you!" Harry called after him. Draco raised a hand in the air, waving him off. "We should do it again sometime," Harry muttered as he went in the direction of his class.

----

Harry stood by Hermione on the school steps that afternoon as they waited for Ron to come around with his truck. They had started getting rides from Ron after school instead of Hermione's parents; Harry had argued it was more convenient than having her mum or dad coming all the way out there for them everyday. Besides, Ron seemed completely happy with the setup.

"If he doesn't hurry up we're going to be late for practice," Hermione whined impatiently as she tapped her foot against the cement. Harry just rolled his eyes toward the sky. When he brought them back down to earth, they landed on a certain blond headed fellow walking away from the school.

"Hey 'Mione, stay here for a sec," Harry said as he dropped his book bag on her arm and ran down the path. He jogged through the gate opening and made his way to the boy.

"Draco!" Harry called out. Draco tensed and stopped his progression. He turned around and his expression was blank as Harry caught up to him.

"Hey," Harry panted slightly. "Where are you heading?"

"I've got work," Draco answered simply.

"Oh." Harry suddenly seemed at a loss for what to say now that he was actually talking to Draco.

"Anything else? Otherwise I'm going to be late."

"Um well, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime."

"Why?"

"Because um…I think you're interesting and we could, I dunno, do the friend thing?"

Draco's eyebrow rose up and his face, to Harry, seemed to have been made from some kind of emotionless stone. 'Damn, he has to make this hard doesn't he?'

"Halloween's this week," Harry stated kind of lamely. 'No wait, I can work with that.' "And Hermione and I always do something; nothing big, just going out and having fun. Maybe you'd like to join us or something…"

"Sure."

"Really?"

"I guess. I have that night off from the restaurant."

"Great. You can just stop by Hermione's house that night, here I'll give you the phone number and address." Harry rummaged around in his pockets for a scrap of paper and a pen. He uncapped the pen with his mouth and hastily wrote down the necessary information.

"Here." He pressed it into Draco's hand. Harry shuddered slightly when his fingers came in contact with the other boy's flesh. Draco just stared at it for a few moments before pocketing it. There soon-to-be-awkward silence was cut off by a loud honking coming from the student parking lot. Harry whirled around and saw Ron's truck sitting there, with Hermione inside; she was leaning across Ron's lap and laying it on the horn pretty good.

"That's my ride," Harry said with a grimace. "Hey, do you need a lift to your work?"

Draco's eyes glanced over at the rusty car with the horn-crazy girl inside, waving frantically for Harry to hurry up; as well as at the red-headed Weasley behind the wheel.

"Uh…no."

"Okay, well I better go. See you later!" Harry waved at Draco and took off back to where Ron and Hermione were waiting. He jogged up to the truck and over to the passenger side, where Hermione threw the door open and pulled him inside with her brute strength.

"Are you trying to make us lose one of those spots?" Hermione asked as he squeezed into the limited space.

"Sorry Hermione," Harry said meekly. He didn't feel like fighting with Hermione, especially not while his side was jammed painfully into the window crank.

They pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street; once again Ron had his music blasting; this time it was hardcore rock from the early 80's.

"Is there anything you don't listen to Ron?" Hermione questioned as her nose scrunched up in distaste at the choice of music.

"Probably," Ron shrugged as he kept both of his hands on the steering wheel and head-banged all the while.

"And will you please stop doing that? You'll get us into a wreck!"

"I will not. This is perfectly safe."

"It's breaking your concentration on the road!"  
"Hermione, I've done this plenty of times before and I…" Harry tuned out their bickering. They had been doing that a lot lately ever since Ron had started becoming frequent in their lives again. It drove Harry completely mad and he was surprised he hadn't tried to jump out of the moving vehicle by now. He stared out the window as the two scrabbled over the station dial, trying to gain control of which station they listen to.

When they finally reached the dance studio (not entirely too soon either) Harry fumbled for the door handle and freed himself from the suffocating atmosphere that was inside Ron's truck. He cracked his back and rubbed his sore side as he waited for Hermione to follow him. When he noticed she was still inside the truck, fighting with Ron, he decided he'd best get her attention.

"Ahem," Harry cleared his throat. Hermione didn't seem to hear him. "Hermione!" Said girl turned around in her seat and looked at him.

"What?"

"If you haven't noticed, we've arrived; and since you were so keen on not being late earlier, I think it'd be best if we go now."

"Oh! Sorry!" She quickly scooted out of the front seat and slammed the truck door closed. Ron turned off the ignition to his car and got out as well. They left their school stuff in the front while they grabbed their duffle bags from the back of the truck. They had put it in there earlier that day so they wouldn't have to carry them around classes.

Harry felt his stomach begin to flutter as they climbed up the stairs in a single file. This was the moment he and Hermione had been anticipating; would they get chosen? Their routine had been sloppy at best. Sure, they had pulled off quite a few stunts and their improvisation had impressed their instructor, but would it be enough?

They walked into the dance room; everyone else was already there, standing around and chatting. Harry spotted the other three groups: they looked just as nervous as he felt. He suddenly wondered how they had done on their routines; he hadn't gotten to see them like everyone else.

Ron went and took his usual seat on the far-side wall bench; he took out his headphones and placed a cassette in his walkman. He leaned against the wall, his head nodding with the music and his foot tapping against the floor.

Harry turned to Hermione, who was already in the process of stretching out her muscles. He stood beside her, swinging his arms back and forth trying to warm up his body. The butterflies in his stomach only seemed to worsen.

When at last Miss Miranda walked through the door, everyone was finished with their basic warm ups and were standing around anxiously. She pulled off her traveling coat and bunched her hair up into a messily done pony-tail before joining them.

"Alright class," she said as she rested her hands on her hips. "I know you're all so impatient to learn of which groups I chose…" the class all perked up in unison, expecting her to continue. "But first we're going to be doing some class training together!" Everyone in the room groaned.

"Can't you just tell us please?"

"No." Miss Miranda winked at them. "I've noticed quite of you are getting a little flabby and out of shape. Today, we're going to do a series of grueling aerobic and training exercises."

"What!"

"We're not going to dance?"

"But we've already done those!"

Miss Miranda waited for the complaining to die down before continuing, "To be a top condition dancer, one must continue to train their body. Now, no more complaining, everyone get into lines."

The class shuffled quickly, their feet moving grudgingly over the polished floor. They stood in formation lines and waited for further instruction.

"One of the most important parts of the dancer's body is the legs," Miss Miranda said as she walked in front of them. "Without strong legs, you will surely fail." Harry looked down at his legs; he was wearing a pair sweats rolled up to his knees. He could just make out the lithe leg muscles he had acquired over the years.

"So first exercise today will focus on strengthening the legs," she informed them. "Everyone lie on your backs." Harry looked at Hermione, who was standing right next to him before they, and everyone else included, sat on the floor and then lay back. He rolled his shoulders a bit, trying to get used to the feeling of his shoulder blades digging into the hardwood.

"Make sure your arms are at your sides and tuck your chin to your chest. Raise your feet into the air with your heels together and toes turned out. You may use your hands under your hips for support." Harry took a deep breath and then rolled himself until only his upper back was supporting his body. He placed his hands under his hips as he felt his balance wobbling. Breathing in again, and once in the correct position, he exhaled and waited.

"Now, move your feet so your left toe is touching your right heel. This will put you in the Scissor position." Everyone followed the instructions, inhaling simultaneously.

"Once you have that position steady, slowly spread your legs apart." Harry felt completely off balance but struggled to keep the position as he spread his legs to form a V. "Repeat that exercise eight times."

There were the sounds of feet hitting the floor as other dancers lost their balance and fell completely flat again. Miss Miranda simply commanded them to try it again until everyone in the room completed the set of eight. She also led through the Straddle Flexors and Foot flexors, which were basically the same exercise with slight variations. Harry's leg muscles felt strained and sore by time they were allowed to relax from the positions.

"Great job! Can you feel that glorious burn already?" The groan from the class answered her question as everyone shook their legs trying to loosen up their tightening muscles. "Oh you haven't felt anything yet, I guarantee it. So get on your stomachs children, we're going to do a Quad Stretch."

Harry sighed and got down on his hands and knees before lowering himself to the ground. He turned his head to Hermione as she did the same thing.

"Hey Hermione," he whispered as he followed the teacher's instructions and grabbed his right ankle with his right hand and began pulling it towards his butt. He winced as he felt the pull on his tendons. "I talked to Draco today."

Hermione was panting as she continuously tried to pull her leg father before turning her attention to him. "Oh? I saw you with him but I wasn't sure what that was about." They both exhaled through their mouths as they let go of their legs and did the same thing with their left. "I thought you didn't want to ever see him again."

They cut off as they finished the set of stretches and Miss Miranda began to guide them through the next one. This one was known as the "Cobra", named for the position they had to hold. They lay flat on their stomachs with their hands under their shoulders; then they slowly raise themselves from the floor, leaving their hips on the ground as they straighten their arms out.

"Well remember yesterday how Draco came up to us and wanted to talk with me?" Harry winced as he back popped from holding the position. His arms were shaking a bit with the effort of holding himself up.

"Yeah," Hermione said after a large exhale of air. They lowered themselves to the ground again; entire body protesting at the treatment it was receiving. Again, they had to put a hold to the conversation as Miss Miranda was about to give them their next instructions.

"Everyone get with their partners," she told them. Harry and Hermione sat next to each other, both breathing a little harshly. "While one partner lies on their back, the other will help them stretch their legs backward. It's a standard leg stretch, we've done them before."

Harry laid down flat on his back with his feet on the ground and knees slightly bent apart. He waited for Hermione, who stood in front of him. He lifted his left leg from the ground and Hermione grabbed his foot around the ankle and knee and gently began moving it back towards his body. Harry struggled to keep his leg straight as he started feeling his muscles burn.

"Breathe Harry," Hermione said as she held his leg in position. "So what did he say yesterday?"

"He wanted to explain something to me," Harry gasped out as Hermione repeated the process with his other leg.

"Explain what?" They switched positions and Harry started doing the exercise on Hermione. Her legs were a bit more flexible than his and therefore she wasn't experiencing quite as much pain as he had.

"About something that had happened," Harry said, not really wishing to divulge exactly what happened. He didn't know how Hermione would react and if whether or not she would run to the police.

When they finished with that, they moved onto a series of sit ups. Hermione held Harry's feet down with her knees and placed her hands on his legs. He brought his abdomen up and started his set, hands behind his head.

"He wanted…" Harry went down and back up, only able to breathe and talk as he came up, "to apologize…and tell me some…things about…himself." He stopped talking for a few moments as he completed his set of thirty and switched with Hermione. Once in position, and when she started up, he continued. "I think he's actually a decent guy."

"Oh?" Hermione said through a breath she had taken. "How…so?"

"Next! This is a simple one class! Your arms are also very important to dancing. A few push ups should keep them in tip-top shape!" Harry and Hermione got into the push up position and then began lowering and raising themselves.

"Well…" Harry said as lowered himself again. "What would you say about someone who does bad things but for unselfish reasons?"

"I dunno," Hermione answered. "I'd say they need to find ways to do good things instead."

"But what if good things don't work for them?"

"21…22…23…I dunno Harry, I've never been in that kind of situation before….30." They both sighed as they finished their set and got on their knees. Harry reached up and wiped away the sweat rolling down his temples.

The next thing they did worked on stretching their legs, arms and back all at the same time. Harry and Hermione sat on the floor facing each other, with their feet touching and legs spread apart. Harry grabbed Hermione's hands as they began pulling each other back and forth. Harry winced slightly and curled his toes, trying to keep from moaning in pain.

"I guess you just gotta try and be there for him Harry," Hermione said as they worked. "I know you don't know him very well, but it sounds like he just needs some real friends; maybe someone to show him that the world isn't really a terrible place."

Harry chewed on his lip and thought that over before nodding. He released Hermione's hands once they finished with that and he leaned back on his hands. His entire body was tingling with the effort.

"Get back into the pushup position please," Miss Miranda told them. Harry and Hermione looked at each other. 'More pushups?' But instead, she had them elevate their hips in the air, keeping their hands and feet flat on the floor until they formed the letter 'A'. Harry, once in the correct position, began holding it. He turned his head from between his shoulder to Hermione.

"Well anyway, he told me some stuff about himself, and I think he's interesting. I wanted to get to know him better…" They relaxed from the position on Miss Miranda's instruction.  
"Very good. Can you feel your body getting stronger already?"

"I'm feeling something alright," someone in the back of the classes muttered. There was a round of giggling from the rest of the class; but the merriment was short-lived as they were told what they were going to do next.

"Handstands!" a boy shouted incredulously.

"Correction, walking handstands," Miss Miranda said with a smile. Harry's eyes widened; his upper body strength was lacking quite a bit. He wasn't even sure if he could still do a handstand. "This is a perfect exercise for arm strength and durability. Everyone, get against the wall and then get into the handstand position. You will walk across the room on your hands; no matter how many times you fall, you must get back up and continue until you reach the end. Your partner may help you if you have trouble staying on your hands."

Harry slugged over to the wall next to Hermione and then bent down. He placed his hands on the floor and then swung his legs up until he heard and felt his feet clunk against the wall. He felt all of his blood immediately rush to his head. The chain around his neck was dangling close to the ground.

On the go signal, Harry began moving his hands, his arms shaking dangerously. Just as he suspected, his whole body overbalanced and he fell to the side. He wasn't the only one either; several other dancers went tumbling to the floor. He looked up and saw Hermione already half way across the room.

'Figures she'd have a better upper-body than me too,' Harry grumbled in his mind and got back on his hands. He made a slow, but sure, progress across the room. Hermione had been one of the first to finish and went back to help him. Whenever he started wobbling, Hermione would catch his legs in her hands and help him until he regained balance again.

When he finally reached the end, he lowered his legs to the ground and got off of his smarting hands. He rubbed them as his heart pounded against his chest. 'God she wasn't kidding when she said this was grueling.'

"Good job class, you've completed a set of exercises that will surely help you along your way to being a great dancer!" The class exhaled together, thinking their suffering was over. "But of course, it wouldn't be complete without a three mile formation run!"

"Huh?" one person said weakly, followed by the sound of a body hitting the floor. Harry turned and saw one of the girls, Katie, fainted on the floor. It seems as if she had overworked herself.

"Oh dear," Miss Miranda said as she went over to the fallen girl. "See class, this is what happens when you don't keep your body in shape." A couple of the boys helped her move Katie onto one of the benches.

"Poor Katie," Hermione and a couple of others said sympathetically. It seemed like she'd be out of it for awhile.

"I hope you all brought your running shoes! I'll give you a few moments to prepare yourselves while I check over Miss Katie." The class broke up and made their ways to their bags for their water bottles.

Harry grabbed his and took several large gulps. His body felt hot and stretched to the max. He took a few more drinks before stuffing the bottle back in his bag. He then pulled out his shoes and went through the pain of putting them on and lacing them up.

"That was some pretty heavy stuff," Ron said from behind him as Harry got up and shook his body out. He then lowered himself to the ground, performing a few splits to stretch his legs before the run. "I'm feeling all sore and stuff just watching all it."

"That's because you're sadly out of shape Ronald," Hermione said as she joined them. She was retying her hair back and drinking from her bottle as well. "Maybe you should try doing a few sometime."

"I'm good," Ron said. "I'm perfectly content just watching."

"Fine, stay fat."

"I'm not fat!"  
"Yes you are!"

"Just because I'm happy with who I am doesn't make me fat!"

Harry shook his head and stood up. Miss Miranda seemed to think they had had a long enough break and gathered them around.

"Ready to go?" The class muttered unenergetically in response. "Remember, the faster we finish this run, the sooner we get to know who was chosen!" That did it. The dancers were practically pushing and shoving each other out the door. Harry and Hermione brought up the rear, leaving Ron sitting on the bench listening to his music full blast.

Once outside, the cool late-October air hit their sweaty faces and it brought instant relief.

"Everyone into formation," she said to them. They instantly formed three lines. Harry and Hermione were side by side around the middle of the group.

"So the rest about Draco then?"

"In a minute," Harry said, nodding to Miss Miranda.

"And anyone who breaks or falls out of the formation," she said with a sinister grin, "Will stay after and perform a set of bar stretches for me."

Harry suddenly felt relieved that he was an excellent runner. He didn't think he could do any more stretching that day.

Miss Miranda took her place at the front of the formation and brought her whistle to her lips. "Ready…and…" she blew on the whistle and they were off.

---

Harry bent over, panting with his hands on his knees. Saliva was dripping from his mouth as he fell to his knees and onto the floor. That run had taken whatever energy he had and squeezed every last drop of it from him. When they had trudged back up the stairs and back into the room thirty minutes later, every one had pretty much collapsed onto the floor. He noticed several dancers on their backs with their arms and legs spread out.

"Wasn't that revitalizing everyone?" Miss Miranda said; though she was panting and sweating herself, she didn't look quite as wiped out as everyone else. In fact, she looked very pleased.

"Can…we…just…know…who…you chose…now?" Hermione asked as she tried to return her breathing back to normal.

"Of course, of course!" The excitement that this would have brought from the kids in the room at any other time just wasn't there as she took her place at the front of the room.

"I'm ready when you guys are." Several kids raised their arms in the air as if signaling to her that they were listening. "The first group I have chosen…"

Harry and Hermione crossed their fingers. He could hear Hermione chanting "please, please, please." Harry did the same chant in his mind, only followed by 'so Hermione doesn't kill me.'

"Angelina and Thomas!" There was a round of unenthusiastic clapping, which died out rather quickly. Harry felt disappointment briefly before anticipation filled him once again.

"And the second group is…"

"Please, Please, Please," Hermione repeated with her eyes closed.

"Lavender and Dean." Harry felt a moment of shock before the words crashed down on him. 'We…didn't get it?' For all of his doubt, he still hadn't really thought about what would happen if they actually didn't get a spot. Hermione slumped against him in deep disappointment.

"I'm so sorry Hermione," Harry said as she rested her head on his shoulder; either for comfort or just because she had no energy left, Harry was more than happy to offer her his shoulder.

"As for the other two pairs, you all did wonderfully on your routines. Try harder next time!"

With that, the class got up and started packing their things together. As Harry was placing his bag over his shoulder, Miss Miranda walked up to him and Hermione.

"I just wanted to let you guys know that it was a very close decision; you were not far behind."

"Thanks," Harry muttered, not really feeling comforted by that. She placed a hand on his shoulder and patted it before walking off to get her own things.

"Don't look so down," Ron said to them as they walked from the room together. "You guys will totally nail one of those spot thingies next year for sure."

"Thanks Ron," Harry said as he climbed into the truck. Hermione followed and slammed the door shut a little less enthusiastically than usual. Ron backed the car up, and after switching gears (which made a disconcerting groaning noise as he did so) he headed down the street.

Before heading directly home, Ron had decided to take them out for Chinese food (and actually treat them this time). Harry wasn't feeling particularly hungry, but he also wasn't in much of a hurry to get back to Hermione's house. The Granger's would be upset that they hadn't gotten their spot. He didn't want to see the looks of pity on their faces as Hermione broke the news.

But just as he expected, Harry merely sat there poking at his congealing Broccoli Special as he stared down at it. Hermione was taking a few uninterested bites here and there, but also feeling far too down to eat. When they were finally ready to go, they got theirs in To Go containers as to not hurt Ron's feelings.

They piled back into the truck and set off for Hermione's house. It was late afternoon already and the sky was turning orange with the setting sun. There was a nice fall breeze that day so Harry decided to crank his window down and let the fresh air fall around him. He reached a hand out of the window and enjoyed the feel of the rushing wind passing his arm.

When they finally reached Hermione's home the sun was almost set and Harry was feeling exhausted. He just wanted to collapse on a bed and never wake up again. Legs and arms screaming in protest, he and Hermione waved bye to Ron before heading up to the house.

Upon entering, the first thing they noticed was that Mr. and Mrs. Granger were sitting in the living room, obviously waiting for them. They shut the door behind him, which caught the attention of the occupants of the sitting room.

"Hermione, Harry!" Mrs. Granger said as she stood up with help from Mr. Granger. "How did it go today?"

"We didn't make it mum," Hermione answered dully, shaking her head. "We didn't get one of the spots."

"Oh sweetheart, I'm so sorry," Mrs. Granger said as she went and gave her daughter a hug. "Better luck next year."

"Thanks." Harry watched the exchange with sadness; Hermione was clearly distraught over not making it. He felt bad for her.

"I'll go make us some tea okay?" Mrs. Granger said to them before bustling off into the kitchen. They could hear the clanging sounds of her digging around in the cupboards as well as that of a pot being filled with water as they made their way into the living room.

"Are you guys' hungry?" Mr. Granger asked them as they sat around. Hermione shook her head.

"No, we had take-out before we came home." She pointed to the containers that they had set on the coffee table. "Ron treated."

"That was nice of him."

Silence.

"So what are you two going to do for Halloween? It's this Thursday isn't it?"

"Oh…yeah." Harry suddenly perked up upon remembering his earlier conversation with Draco. It seemed so long ago now that he thought about it. 'Was it really just this afternoon?'

"Hermione, I just remembered, I invited Draco to do something with us for Halloween. I hope that's alright." Harry turned to Mr. Granger.

"I see no problem with this. He's that nice boy from before isn't he?" Harry nodded. Hermione just shrugged.

"But I really don't know what we're going to do."

"Just nothing dangerous; you have until Thursday to decide."

"Yeah…"

The sound of the telephone ringing from inside the kitchen cut off their conversation; they heard Mrs. Granger pick up the receiver.

"Hello?"

Silence as the person on the other end spoke.

"Yes this is. Do you want to speak with Hermione? Okay, hold on a moment. Hermione!"

"Yes?"

"Telephone!" Hermione looked quizzically at Harry before standing up and disappearing into the kitchen.

"Hello?" Hermione's voice came as she picked up the phone. "Oh hi Miss Miranda." Harry's eyes shot the kitchen entryway. "What? Are you sure? Really? Oh thank you!" More silence. "Thanks so much, bye!"

Hermione ran back into the living room, her face beaming with excitement.

"Guess what Harry! Oh guess what!" Mrs. Granger followed a few moments later with a tray in hand. There were several mugs of steaming tea placed on it. She set it down on the coffee table and smiled at Hermione's sudden mood change.

"What's all this?" she asked kindly.

"We got it! We got a spot!"

"What?" Harry said, standing up suddenly. "What do you mean? How?"

"Well, Lavender and Dean got cold feet after finding out they got a spot. So they dropped out. Miss Miranda chose the next best group: Us!" Harry couldn't believe his ears as Hermione jumped on him and gave him a bone crushing hug.

"This certainly is good news," Mr. Granger commented as he smiled at them. "I'm happy for you both!"

When Harry and Hermione finally broke apart, Hermione's face was flushed with excitement and Harry's earlier fatigue seemed to have vanished. 'Talk about luck,' he thought.

They all settled down and drank their tea, chatting about what dance routine they were going to do, Halloween, how school went and just things in general. As Harry set his mug down and looked up at the clock on the wall, he realized it was getting later.

"Hermione, I think I better go home now."

"What? Why don't you just stay here?"

"Because I'm running out of clothes and I can't just wear yours forever. Besides, I want to check in on my…family."

"But, it's late!"

"It's not that late, it's only seven-thirty."

"Perhaps I should drive you," Mr. Granger offered. Harry shifted uncomfortably; he didn't want to refuse Mr. Granger's kind gesture but he also didn't want him to see his house.

"That's alright…I don't want to be a bother."

"No bother Harry," Mr. Granger said as he stood up and grabbed his keys. "I'd rather know you got home safely."

"Of course you're always welcome to just stay here," Mrs. Granger offered.

"Thanks, but I'd like to go home tonight." Harry winced at his lie. He had never _wanted_ to go to that place he forced himself to call "home". It was true that he didn't have any clothes at Hermione's house for himself but as usual, he wanted to go home and pretend like he had a somewhat normal family. He did it to assuage the Grangers' suspicions somewhat.

"Well then let's go shall we?" Mr. Granger said as he opened the door. Harry wanted to protest some more, but he also didn't want to look rude and ungrateful; so without any more arguing, he walked out the door with Mr. Granger.

The drive was long, but it felt even longer as Harry's stomach clenched with anxiety. This would be the first time Mr. Granger would see where he lived. The man kindly made idle conversation with Harry as they drove through the night. Harry clenched and unclenched his palms on his thighs as he stared out the window.

He couldn't take it anymore as they reached the beginning of the street he lived on.

"Right here's fine Mr. Granger," Harry said as he grabbed the door handle. "Thanks for the ride." Mr. Granger pulled the car over and looked at him skeptically.

"You're welcome Harry; don't forget to come back now!" Harry nodded and bolted from the car. He waved bye as Mr. Granger drove off and sighed in relief. 'That was close.' He then made the single block walk to his house.

---

There was the creaking sound of the knobs turning as Harry filled the bathtub with hot water. Steam rose up around him and filled the tiny room. He sat on the edge of the tub and pulled his socks off, sighing in relief as he stretched his aching toes. He looked down at the; he noticed that his toes were bleeding and torn from where they had rubbed against each other and the ground too much.

Turning around he dipped them into the steaming water, wincing as it soaked his bleeding feet. It was a soothing pain however and he flung his head backward and stared up at the ceiling.

'Even after all of this time, it's still so painful to do all of this stuff,' he thought to himself as he bent down and began scrubbing his feet in the water. He washed off all of the caked blood and dirt.

When he finished, he brought his dripping feet from the tub and placed them on the towel he had laid on the ground. Standing up, even though walking still hurt, he went over to the sink. He pulled off the jumper he was wearing as well as the tank top he had under it. He rubbed his sides and back before pulling on the fresh shirt he had brought from his room. It fell around him loosely; it was one of his cousin's shirts back from when the boy was around eleven. Even so, it was about three times too large for Harry.

Harry gathered up his dirty clothes and walked back to his room. He threw them inside before deciding to head into the kitchen for some water.

He was passing his uncle's room when he heard the distinct sound of sobbing coming from within. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to the open door. He tip-toed up to it and pushed it open a bit farther. His uncle was in there, sobbing in his hands as he sat on his bed.

"Uncle Vernon?" Harry whispered, slightly concerned about what he was seeing. He had never enjoyed seeing people cry, even if they were people like his uncle. "Are you alright?"

There was no answer, just the continuous sobbing and hiccupping from his uncle. Harry didn't know what to do or say, so he just backed out of the doorway quietly. He turned around and sighed, shaking his head. He was about to go get his water when the door flew open and the floorboards creaked from an enormous weight from behind him.

Harry spun around just in time to see his uncle's giant hand come at him and slap him across the face. Harry whirled from the impact and fell to the floor harshly.

"WHAT?" his uncle roared. "What do you want!"

Harry looked up from the floor with his hand on his cheek. "N-nothing, uncle."

"Don't you dare bother me in my room, boy," his uncle said as he grabbed Harry by the arm roughly and hauled him up. "You good for nothing punk." He shoved the boy against the wall. Harry's head banged against it painfully as he slumped against it. His uncle's hulking form advanced on him and he felt another blow to his face before the man backed off.

"Go to your room, filth," he said. He turned away and walked back into his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Harry stood there in shock, his breath hitched from fright as he rubbed his cheek. He wiped his mouth and brought his hand down to view; it was covered it blood. His uncle must have busted his lip open again.

He shakily made his way to his room, water forgotten, and shut the door behind him. He leaned against the door and slid to the floor. He wrapped his arms around his knees and stared at the opposite wall blankly before everything that had happened caught up to him. He rested his head in his arms and cried throughout the night.

* * *

Author's Note: This was mostly just filler material. And a damn long chapter to boot. 

As for chapter dedication, this one goes to **mysticruby** for always reviewing every chapter and being so kind and thoughtful in the reviews! Thank you!

And thanks to everyone else :) Enjoy the chapter.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

"Please! Don't hurt me!" the woman cried as she was pushed face forward against the alley wall. She grunted as she felt her face connect with the cold bricks. Large hands grabbed her shoulders and kept her pressed flat against the building.

"Just give us all your money and we won't hurt you," the dark skinned boy replied as he flicked open his pocket knife.

"Blaise…" another whispered as he stood in the background. He spoke low enough so the woman couldn't hear them.

"What?" Blaise looked over at his companion; the blond had his head turned to the side, not wishing to see the scene unfolding before him. He kept his arms folded over his chest and his hood low over his eyes.

Draco kept his eyes averted and said nothing in response. He didn't know what to say; he felt he couldn't just out and tell Blaise that he didn't like what they were doing. That it felt wrong. Somehow sneaking up on a defenseless woman and ganging up on her didn't seem right.

"Well?" Blaise persisted impatiently. Draco could make out the faint sounds of sobbing coming from the woman. She was still pleading with them, begging them not to hurt her. Draco's eyes flitted in her direction and upon seeing her shaking and frightened form, the memory of disappointed and equally fearful green eyes flashed through his mind. Guilt suddenly filled him and a sick feeling hit his stomach.

"Nothing," he muttered and turned his head away again. "Just hurry up." He heard Blaise turn back to the woman. It took only a few moments to snatch her bag from her and rummage around in it for any cash she carried. When at last Blaise got what he was looking for, he threw the bag back at the woman.

"Just stay there and don't turn around until we're out of sight, got that?" Blaise growled as he pressed the blade of his knife against her back threatening. She merely nodded, chocking out another sob, as Blaise backed away and motioned for the others to leave.

They ran from the deserted alleyway, Draco taking up the rear, and disappeared around a corner. When they put a few blocks distance between them and the woman, they stopped. Draco panted as he looked around. The roads were basically deserted and there weren't any other people walking about.

"…Hardly worth the trouble," Blaise grunted as he cut the money and gave the small portions to each person there. "But it's better than risking bigger robberies at the moment. Bloody police everywhere now."

Draco pocketed the cash and kept his eyes downcast. The guilt kept growing and gnawing at his mind, swirling around in the pit of his stomach sickeningly.

"Draco, what's up with you?"

Draco raised his eyes to meet Blaise's. Blaise looked as cold as ever; his dark eyes were glittering with cruelty, hate and anger. Draco had come to know this as the way the boy always looked. He hardly ever saw any kind of happiness coming from Blaise.

"Nothing, just think that that didn't feel right."

"What?"

"Robbing that woman."

"What do you mean?" Blaise stepped forward, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You've been acting like this a lot Draco. Are you getting cold feet again?"

Draco clenched his fists and glared at Blaise. He didn't say anything; he knew angering Blaise wasn't exactly a smart thing to do.

"Well?" Blaise grabbed Draco's arm roughly and squeezed it. Draco kept his head turned, jaw set and eyes focused in the opposite direction. "Do you need reminding that I'm the one who brought you back on your feet? You had your sorry ass in the gutter and I gave you a way out."

_Draco sat with his back against the wall, the chilly night air cutting through his ragged jacket. He kept his arms around his knees and stared at the floor. His mother and father had been fighting; yelling and screaming at each other. His father had lost his job and his mother was worried and angry. Draco couldn't stand the screaming; his mother's shrill voice and his father's low growl._

_He had run from the house, hands over his ears and not looking at either of his parents. He had to get away from all of that. He didn't want to hear any of it; so he ran down the street and didn't look back. He had run until his legs collapsed on him and his lungs burned out. He had been sitting in the spot he had collapsed near for hours. The wind rustled dry leaves along the cement and sent shivers down his arms and spine._

'_Why can't things ever be normal?' he thought bitterly as he glared at the ground, as if it were responsible for all of his troubles. He was shocked however when a shadow fell over him and several pairs of feet appeared in his line of sight._

"_Hey kid," one of them said. "You better scram, this here is our spot."_

"_Whatever," Draco mumbled as he looked up at the others. There were five boys all around his age, each varying in size. The smallest one had dark skin, dark eyes and a menacing look on his face. He seemed annoyed at Draco's presence._

"_I said scram," he said again with more force. Draco just glared up at him with equal annoyance. 'Why can't they just let me be?"_

"_Leave me alone," he gritted out. His fingers dug into the fabric of his jeans as he clutched his knees. He was trying to suppress all of the rage that had built up inside of him over the last few hours._

_The boys around him laughed as if he had told the funniest joke in the world. This caused Draco's face to heat up and his anger to bubble even more._

"_This one thinks he's tough," the dark boy said to the others. The larger ones guffawed moronically. Draco had the feeling they were just laughing to please the boy, not because they found it funny. "But I wonder if he's really as tough as he thinks."_

_Draco jumped to his feet just as they began closing around him. The dark one's eyes glinted as he watched him. Draco had to think fast; he figured this situation could turn real ugly real fast. Without thinking, he dodged around one of the large ones that had come at him and landed a punch right in the dark one's face. The boy growled as he clutched his jaw. He reached into his pocket and brought out a switchblade, grinning as he let it glint in the light menacingly._

_Draco quickly fumbled through his pocket and brought out his own knife. The two stared at each other, blades raised and ready to use. Draco was panting roughly, his face set in a stubborn scowl, the other one was grinning at him; though no humor was found in his expression._

_Then he laughed again and put away his blade; Draco's eyes widened at what he was witnessing. 'Is he backing down? Was this all just a joke? Why's he laughing?'_

"_Jesus kid, something's sure got you pissed off. And I know it wasn't just us."_

_Draco lowered his blade slightly in surprise. He hadn't expected him to say anything like that._

"_What's your name?" The other boy was grinning and looking at him with interest. Draco eyed him warily; first the boy tries to kill him and now he wants to know his name? _

"_Draco," he said cautiously, knife still poised in the air. He didn't want to take any chances. He wasn't afraid to use the knife if the need arose._

"_Well Draco," the boy said. "My name's Blaise and this is the rest of my gang: Goyle, Crabbe, Nott, and Macnair."_

_Draco looked at them all in turn; they were all quite large and mean looking. He was glad he wasn't taking them all on at once; there would be no way he would win._

"_So what's your story boy?" Blaise asked him._

"_I don't have a story," Draco answered, finally lowering his knife but keeping it open._

"_Bullshit. Everyone has a story. And you gotta have a reason to be out here alone, looking all angry at the world."_

_Draco chewed on the inside of his cheek in frustration. Couldn't this guy just take a hint and leave? He didn't want to spill his guts to a complete stranger, let alone some gang member._

_"Piss off." He shoved his way past the large boys and was relieved when they didn't try to stop him. Blaise, however, seemed quite persistent._

_"We could help you, you know."_

_Draco stopped in his tracks, shoulders tense and breathing shallow. He turned back around and faced them again._

_"What?"_

_"Whatever problems you're having, we can help."_

_"How?"_

_"You gotta tell us what the problem is first."_

_Draco eyed them all again. Were they kidding him? Were they just making fun of him and his obvious problems? 'Only one way to find out I guess.'_

_"I need money. My father lost his job and my mother is too ill to get a job."_

_"We can help you there."_

_"You can?"_

_"As long as you stick to us, you'll be fine. Of course, you'll have to do a few things for us."_

_Draco paused for a few moments before nodding, accepting the offer; accepting this new fate._

"Well?" Blaise urged again, his cold eyes fixed on him.

"No," Draco replied dully. "I remember."

"Good."

Draco shrugged out of Blaise's grip and walked away. They didn't call after him or try to stop him; they knew he would come back. He always came back. It made him sick knowing that they knew that. All of his efforts to become independent had only caused him to become so dependent on a group of criminals.

He walked down the cold and empty streets, his hands in his pockets and his fingers brushing against the money in them.

'Such dirty money,' he thought bitterly as he clenched his hands around it. He didn't know why he cared now; he never did before. 'Ever since I met Harry, this fucking guilt has been taking over.'

He looked up at the sky; it was a dark and steely gray. Fat rain clouds hung low and heavy. It was another one of those cold and drab Tuesday mornings. Instead of being in school, he was out there, wandering the streets like a rat without a home; with a pocket full of stolen money and a conscience full of guilt.

He looked around at the shops and homes as he walked; shop windows were decorated with Halloween festivities. They displayed costumes for children, bags and boxes of sweets, and Halloween designed toys. House steps and windowsills were adorned with Jack-O-Lanterns and spooky decorations. Everyone was getting into the spirit of the holiday only two days away.

'Everyone except me,' he thought as he continued on. His thoughts drifted to Harry; the boy had invited him to do some holiday stuff with him and the Granger girl. He didn't know if he was looking forward to that or not; it wasn't like he had anything else to do.

Rubbing his hands together and coughing lightly, he rounded a corner and began down the next street. This one had a few people on it. The most prominent figure was that of ragged old man by the gutter. He was holding an old rusted saxophone in his hands as his lips blew against the mouthpiece, creating an array of soft jazz music. People would drop coins in the cup beside him as they walked by. He watched the man for awhile; his coat was torn and stained, his feet bare and body thin. His most treasured possession seemed to be that of the instrument he was so lovingly playing.

'_To live your life day by day, never knowing where your next meal is coming from; never knowing where you're sleeping that night; never knowing if you'll still be alive the next day. Is that how this man lives?'_

Draco bit his lip and his fingers flitted across the rolled up money in his pocket once again before he headed down the sidewalk. As he passed the dark old man, he pulled out the wad of money and stuffed it in the cup.

'Take the money,' he thought as he walked on, not even looking back. 'It's too heavy. I don't want it.'

---

"More water," his mother croaked as she reached out for him. Draco hurried over to her and held her head up as he brought the glass to her lips. She sipped the water down and sighed. He set the cup back down and asked her if she needed anything else.

"Oh Draco," Narcissa said as she reached up and touched his face. "How did it come to this?"

"It's not your fault mother."

"I should have been a better mother for you."

"You're a perfect mother."

"Don't lie to me. Look at us. Look at you. You carry this family by yourself. You're my brave son."

"Don't worry about that."

"Why can't I be a good mother and take care of my son like I'm supposed to?"

"You've taken good care of me all of these years."

"I wish it wasn't this way."

"Shh, just rest and don't think about it mother. Everything is fine. I'll take care of everything."

Narcissa nodded and rested her head back down. Her eyes fluttered closed and her breathing evened out. He brought the blanket closer around her and stood up from his kneeled position. He walked out of the room and into the hallway. He checked his watch; just a few hours before he needed to be at the restaurant for his shift. He decided he needed a shower; his boss didn't like it when his waiters showed up dirty and smelly.

Draco walked into the bathroom and closed the door. He walked over to the shower and turned it on before heading over to the sink. He took off his shirt and threw it to the floor before turning on the tap. He opened the medicine cabinet and brought out a bottle of aspirin before closing it again.

He popped one of the tiny pills into his mouth and bent over the faucet, drinking straight from the stream of water. He swallowed the water and the aspirin down before straightening his head and staring into the cabinet mirror.

His eyes seemed sunken; there were dark circles around them, the results of lack of sleep and too much work. His hair fell into his pale face limply. His cheeks seemed thinner, as if he had lost a lot of weight over a short amount of time. He supposed that was from not eating sufficiently. His eyes roamed over the rest of his body; it had been awhile since he had taken a good look at himself. His arms were lightly muscled from all of the heavy lifting he did at the mechanics shop and the diner. But the rest of him was thin and pale.

Shaking his head and running a hand through his hair, he stripped the rest of his clothing and stepped into the cold shower. Cold water always helped his muscles relax and clear his mind.

'_I'm living in a nightmare; a cold, dark, horrifying nightmare that I can't wake up from. Everything seems so wrong, so twisted. Why didn't I know this is how it was going to end up_?'

When he was finished showering, he dressed in his work clothes and headed into the kitchen. He decided to get something to eat before he left; he didn't know when he'd be back and his stomach was already protesting loudly.

He went to the stove and turned on one of the burners. He rummaged around for a pot underneath the sink. He filled it with water and set it on the burner, waiting a few minutes for it to boil. He reached up into one of the cupboards and pulled out a pack of instant noodles. He looked over the package before tearing it open with his teeth and adding it to the boiling water.

He looked through the fridge before pulling out a carrot and some fresh mushrooms he had bought on sale the other day. He brought them to the cutting board and sliced them up with a clean knife before adding them into the mix. He stirred it for a few minutes and turned off the burner. Not even bothering to pour the contents into a bowel, he grabbed a fork and brought the pot over to the table. He slammed it down on the top before sitting himself down in the chair.

He scooped up the noodles into his mouth, all the while watching the entrance to the kitchen. He heard his father out there; he knew the man was probably drinking at that very moment. He wondered if the he would come in there. Draco almost wanted him to; he wanted a reason to get angry, a reason to let all of his frustrations out on someone.

But he never did; the kitchen remained silent as he finished up his meager meal. He deposited the pot into the sink before picking up his jacket and heading out the door. He walked out into the living room and his tired eyes landed on his father. As he had suspected, he was drinking and staring up at the ceiling; his father's eyes were blank and bloodshot.

'Does he even know I'm here?' He figured not. Without a word, he walked out of the house.

---

The dishes clinked against each other as he cleared the table of dirty plates and cups. He dropped them into the bucket he was hauling around. He picked up the tip from the table and pocketed it before wiping the table and chairs down with the rag he had. Once finished, he picked up the bucket and started walking to the back room.

One of the bus boys had called in sick so Draco was covering for him along with his own waiter duties. Twice the work but not double the pay. He shoved the kitchen door open and dumped the dirty dishes next to the dish washer. He wiped his hands on his apron before heading back out.

"More tea please waiter!"

"Waiter, this soup is too salty."

"Waiter, service please!

Draco was hustling about all night, taking orders, refilling drinks, taking orders back to be fixed and clearing tables. His stress was through the roof and his body was battling fatigue. To say the least, he was relieved when it was his break time.

He headed out into the back alley behind the restaurant for a smoke. The night was chilly and the sky was still blanketed with ominous clouds. The air was thick with the promise of an upcoming storm.

'Just what we need too,' he thought bitterly as he lit his cigarette and took a long drag from it. It seemed to do little to alleviate the stress he was feeling.

"Nice night don't you think?" a woman's voice said from behind him. Draco turned and saw one of the waitresses that worked the same shift as him. He remembered her name being Debbie or something like that.

He blew out his smoke and looked her over. She was tall with large breasts and curly black hair. She wore a liberal amount of red lipstick and mascara. The waitress suit looked frumpy and unattractive on her.

"Mind if I bum?" she asked as she leaned against the wall. Draco just shrugged and held out his pack. She took one and thanked him. "Have been meaning to buy a new pack for a week now."

Draco didn't answer, just turned away and continued smoking his cigarette. The wind rustled his hair as he tapped some flickering ashes to the ground.

"So how old are you now Draco?" she asked him suddenly. "Sixteen? Seventeen?"

'What's she getting at?'

"Sixteen."

"I bet the girls are all over you."

Draco ignored her; besides, her statement couldn't have been further from the truth.

"Do you have a girlfriend Draco?"

He looked over at her with suspicion. 'Is she hitting on me?'

"No."

"Such a shame. A handsome boy like you shouldn't go to waste." She smiled seductively at him and took a few steps forward. He watched her uninterestedly as she continued moving closer to him. Whatever she was trying, he knew he wasn't interested. At all. She was at least ten years older than him.

"Perhaps I can remedy that…hmm?" she whispered as she moved close to him. He just raised an eyebrow at her and said nothing. She leaned closer to him, obviously expecting him to kiss her. She was severely disappointed, however. Draco merely blew a puff of smoke in her face, causing her to cough and back up. He dropped his cigarette to the ground and stepped on it.

"No thanks," he said before opening the back door and walking back inside. Debbie or whatever her name was hadn't approached him the rest of the shift; he occasionally caught the sour looks she would give him but he just shrugged them off. He could care less what the woman thought of him.

When he cleared off the last table and dropped the dishes off in the kitchen, it was finally quitting time for him. He untied the apron around his waist and waved good-bye to the manager as he was closing up. He walked out into the night as everyone else was getting in their cars, preparing to drive on home.

'I have no home to go to,' he thought. 'At least not a real home.' Deciding he'd rather not go back to his house that night, Draco took a turn in the opposite direction and began walking to one of the local parks. That was where he often went now whenever he found himself unable to sleep in his own house. Sometimes the place was so blanketed with despair and the stench of dying that he could barely breathe, let alone sleep.

His feet crunched over the wet and springy grass of one of the play parks. It was one of the larger ones; trees surrounded the area and there were several grassy hills that kids liked to roll down whenever they came there. Sometimes during the summer Draco even caught a few kids sliding down the hills on giant blocks of ice. There were also several benches that surrounded the park; they weren't the most comfortable place to sleep but it was better than on the ground or the wet grass.

He lay his back down on the bench, the wood digging into his back. He stared up at the sky through a canopy of leaves. Some of the clouds had drifted away, leaving spaces of black sky open. He could make out a few of the twinkling stars and the moon shining through the clouds. He stared up at the stars, watching as they shone down on the world. It made him think of Severus.

'I wonder where he's at now,' he thought. 'Is he at home, gazing through his fancy telescope at a world beyond this one? What does he see when he looks through that telescope? Does he see something I can't see? What's so special about stars and moons and distant planets?'

Draco closed his eyes for a brief moment. He tried to bring himself back into the world where his mother was healthy, his father happy. The world where he heard lullabies as he drifted off to sleep; not the sounds of car alarms going off and people yelling somewhere far away.

_Hush-a-bye_

_Don't you cry_

He took a deep breath of the thick night air; it filled his lungs and swirled icily throughout his body. He thought of the times when he never felt angry; when he never hated. When he never felt scared.

_Go to sleep my little ba-by_

Draco opened his eyes and exhaled loudly. The frosty air rose up in front of him and disappeared into the night sky. He looked back up at the stars; they were glaring down at him now. 'Do stars see what I do? Are they angry that I have done bad to the world?'

_When you wake_

_You shall have_

Could stars tell stories? If so would they tell of the criminal boy who slept like a homeless person on benches at night? Draco squeezed his eyes shut and clutched at the side of the bench. Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes; it had been so long since he had truly cried. It bubbled up inside of him and yet he tried to push it back down. Before he knew it, he was sitting up on the bench, screaming at the top of his lungs to the sky, where all of the stars seemed to be laughing at him and his misery. Dogs barked in the distance at the noise as Draco clutched his head and sobbed into his chest.

_All the pretty little horses_

* * *

Author's Note: Hey guys! Sorry for this delay! I decided to take a little break from writing, just so I don't totally burn out from doing daily updates. Anyway, here's chapter thirteen!! 

Futher disclaimer: I don't own the lines to that lullaby All The Pretty Little Horses just so there's no confusion and unnecessary anger :) I used to sing that lullaby to myself a lot whenever I got scared at night. I like it.

As for dedication: this one goes to **Mimaindi** Thank you for all of your great reviews!

Thanks for all of your reviews!


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

The scent of baking biscuits met Harry as he entered the house around five Thursday evening. He set his bag down by the door and looked around. A large bowl of assorted candies was set by the entryway, waiting to be passed out to Trick-or-Treaters. There were several cut-out paper ghosts and witches hanging on the walls, decorating the hallway. He heard the sounds of talking and laughter coming from the kitchen. Deciding that's where everyone was, he walked through the living room and into the brightly lit kitchen.

The sight that greeted him was a friendly one. Mrs. Granger and Hermione were at the table; Mrs. Granger was stirring a bowel of batter while Hermione was cutting the dough with Halloween shaped cookie cutters.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed as she looked up to see him standing there. She set aside the cutters and went over to give him a hug. "Didn't you hear you come in!"

"How are you Harry?" Mrs. Granger asked as she smiled warmly at him. She licked her fingers free from the batter and gestured him over to her. "We're just making some biscuits. I'd ask you to help, but we're almost finished here."

"Is there anything else I can do?" Harry asked as he watched Hermione slide a batch into the oven.

"Hmm. Well you and Hermione can gut that pumpkin over there and carve it if you'd like. Be sure to save the seeds though, I'll bake them later."

Harry looked over at the giant pumpkin sitting atop the counter. He nodded and smiled in agreement and waited a few moments for Hermione to clean up her mess before joining him. They grabbed the pumpkin with both hands and hauled it through the living room and out onto the porch. They set it down with the bowl and carving knife Hermione had brought out with her.

"So," Harry said as they both sat down. He watch as Hermione cut a circle around the pumpkin and pulled the top off. It revealed the seeds and membrane inside. Hermione set the knife down. "What are we going to do tonight?"

"Well I was thinking of maybe going to see that new horror movie," she replied as she rolled up her sleeves and plunged her hands into the pumpkin. Harry followed suit and cringed at the slimy, messy feel of grabbing the pumpkin seeds and yanking them out. He dumped his handful into the bowl and went back for more.

"How are we going to get there?" He peeled a few strings of membrane from his hands and slung the sloppy mess to the ground. He looked up at Hermione in time to catch a slight blush creeping across her cheeks.

"Um…well." She busied herself for a few moments by picking seeds that had stuck to her hand off and dropping them into the bowl. "I asked Ron if he'd…drive us."

"Oh, I see." Harry smiled and peeled the last of the seeds from the sides of the pumpkin. He deposited them and wiped his hands on his jeans. He watched Hermione pick up the carving knife and begin cutting two triangles on the pumpkin for eyes, as well as an upside down triangle for the nose. She made a jagged opening beneath that for the mouth, giving the Jack-O-Lantern a toothy grin.

"What do you think?" Hermione asked as she turned the pumpkin to face Harry better.

"Super spooky Hermione," Harry said and gave a thumbs up. The pumpkin, overall, wasn't very frightening but would still look good once lighted.

"We just need a candle now," she said as she put the top back on the pumpkin and stood up. "C'mon, let's go give mum these seeds." Harry stood up with Hermione and walked back into the house.

Mrs. Granger was in the process of frosting some of the ghost shaped cookies when they walked back in. Hermione placed the bowl next to her mother and went over to wash her hands in the sink.

"Do we have any candles?" she asked as she turned on the tap.

"I believe so; check that drawer on your right," Mrs. Granger replied.

"Harry, can you look for me please?"

"Sure," Harry said and walked over to the drawer. He rummaged through it and found a few flat bottomed candles. He took one out and set it on the counter.

"So when is your friend going to be here?" Mrs. Granger asked.

"Well Ron said he would be here around 5:30, so that should be any minute really," Hermione replied while drying her hands on a towel. "But I'm not sure when Draco will be here. He never called." She looked over at Harry.

"We'll just have to wait and I see I guess," Harry replied. There was silence as Mrs. Granger went about preparing the pumpkin seeds. Only a few minutes later did they hear a knock on the door.

"That must be Ron!" Hermione said as she hurried out of the kitchen and into the living room. Harry raised an eyebrow at her quick pace but followed nonetheless.

Harry was just walking into the entryway as Hermione opened the front door.

"Ahhhhh!" Hermione screamed as a tall figure leapt through the doorway. It had a green, scarred face with sunken eyes and a wide mouth. Harry took a step backwards in surprise but let out a sigh when the figure started laughing.

"Oh Ron!" Hermione groaned as said redhead removed his mask and grinned at them.

"Scared you, didn't I?" Ron asked.

"I was just surprised, that's all."

"No, you were frightened. You screamed and everything!"

"Just shut up!" Hermione said as she began slamming the door but let out another shriek as a hand stopped the door from the outside. She stumbled back as it banged open and another darkly clad figure stood in the doorway.

"BOOOO!" it yelled as it lumbered through the entrance. It was carrying a large knife and also had a ghoulish looking face.

"Daaad," Hermione complained as the figure brandished the knife around clumsily. "We know it's you, so stop it before you stab someone."

"Aw how did you know it was me?" Mr. Granger said as he removed his mask and stared down at them all.

"Well you're still wearing your work clothes, which has your name tag on it for one thing," Hermione said as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Ah well, I'll have to make sure not to make that mistake again next time," Mr. Granger replied. "Where's your mother?"

"In the kitchen making Halloween snacks."

"Wonderful! And I suppose you three will be heading out soon?"

"Once Draco gets here yeah."

"And when is that fine young lad going to be here?"

"We're not sure, we'll just have to wait and see."

"In the mean time, how about we go and munch on some of your mother's delicious baked goods?" Mr. Granger said with a grin as they all herded back into the kitchen. Mrs. Granger was just setting the last of the biscuits on a tray as they entered.

"Oh good, you're here," Mrs. Granger said to her husband. "And Ron too. Help yourselves while I check on the seeds." She pointed to the plate and bustled over to the stove. Mr. Granger and Ron both set their masks down on the table and snatched up some of the biscuits. Ron had an orange frosted pumpkin shaped one while Mr. Granger helped himself to a green frosted ghoul biscuit.

"I saw your pumpkin outside Hermione," Mr. Granger said through a mouthful. "Very scary."

"Oh! That reminds me; where did you put that candle Harry?"

"On the counter," Harry answered as he picked out his own witch-shaped treat.

"Be back in a moment," she said as she picked up the candle and hurried outside. They all waited a few moments, chewing on their snacks. When Harry finished the last bite of his, he dusted the crumbs from his hands and looked up at the others.

"I think I'll go wash up before it's time to leave," he said. Mrs. Granger, who was filling a bowl with the freshly roasted pumpkin seeds, smiled and nodded to him.

Harry exited the room and made his way down the hall to the bathroom. He closed the door behind him and hurried over to the mirror. He looked at his reflection and touched his cheek. He sighed in relief when he saw the make-up he had applied earlier was still covering his bruises. But just to be sure, he opened the sink drawer and pulled out Mrs. Granger's make-up bag. He rummaged around before pulling out some foundation that best matched his skin tone.

Looking into the mirror, he applied it evenly to his face. He winced as his hand came in contact with his wound but continued. When he was finished, he checked out his work, making sure it looked natural, before putting everything back exactly where he found it. He then washed his hands in the sink and combed his hair to the best of his abilities before exiting the room.

When he walked back in the kitchen, he was surprised to see not only Hermione, but Draco in the kitchen as well. They all looked up when he re-entered. 'When had he gotten here?' Harry didn't remember hearing any knocking on the door.

"Oh there you are Harry," Hermione said. "Guess who showed up just as I was lighting up the Jack-O-Lantern?" Draco looked at him and Harry gave him a small smile.

"I see you found the place alright."

"Yeah," the blond answered. There was a bit of an awkward silence after that.

"So uh, I guess we better get going then?" Ron asked suddenly.

"Yeah, alright," Harry answered and smiled at Draco once again. They were all making their way through the living room when Mrs. Granger called from the kitchen.

"Oh, Harry, I almost forgot," she said as she hurried after him. She handed him two white long-stemmed roses. "I know you like the white ones."

"Thanks," Harry said with a weak smile as he looked down at them. He noticed Draco give him a confused look but he decided to ignore it.

"And don't stay out too late! Be careful."

"As if Hermione would even _dream_ of staying out late on a school night," Ron cracked. Hermione shoved him out the door and whacked him over the head. Harry laughed and followed. It was already dark out and Hermione's Jack-O-Lantern was glowing brightly as it sat on the porch steps. It would help guide the Trick-or-Treaters to the house.

They walked down the steps and up to the curb where Ron had his truck parked. They all stopped in front of it and stared. Draco and Hermione must have been thinking the same thing as him. Harry decided to voice his concern.

"Er, how are we all going to fit?" He, Ron, and Hermione barely fit when it was just them. Now they had one extra person.

"Yeah, there's four of us now Ron."

"That's nothing," Ron said, waving it off. "My five brothers and I used to pile in this thing with our parents when we were younger."

Harry and Draco shared a "what the hell?" look while Hermione looked like she wanted to reprimand him for such dangerous activity.

"Don't worry, it's simple, I'll show you. Come on." Ron opened up the passenger side door. "Hermione, you get in first." Hermione glared at him but climbed into the seat anyway. She scooted over and waited. "Draco, you go next." Draco looked like he wanted to run away. Harry didn't blame him; this did not sound like a good idea. But he just climbed in next to Hermione. Just as Harry predicted, there was not an inch of room left for him. There was only space left for one person on the driver's side.

"Okay Harry, this is what you're going to do." Harry waited for Ron's brilliant solution to the situation. "You'll just climb up and sit on Hermione and Draco's laps.

"Excuse me?" Harry screeched. "Why me? Why can't Hermione do that?"

"Because you're the smallest mate," Ron said with a grin. 'Hey!' Harry thought feeling offended. He wasn't _that_ much smaller than Hermione.

"Ron I don't think that's a very good idea," Hermione said from her spot in the car.

"It's fine, trust me; I used to do it with my brother's all the time, and we always came out fine."

"I think maybe you suffered brain damage from hitting the dashboard one too many times," Hermione said. "It isn't _safe_."

"Do you want to ride out in the back through the chilly night air?"

"No…" Hermione mumbled.

"Then we'll go as I planned," Ron said and turned back to Harry with a huge grin. "In we go."

Harry sighed, defeated, and climbed in. He gave an apologetic look as he scrambled over Draco and plopped himself down on Hermione. Hermione gave a squeak of protest.

"Move over some Harry," Hermione said and shoved him so he was half on her and half on Draco. Harry had never felt more embarrassed in his life. Draco hadn't said much but Harry could make out the look of discomfort on his face.

Ron climbed into the driver's seat and slammed his door shut.

"Ready everyone?"

"This is so illegal," Harry commented as he adjusted himself on his "seat", "And dangerous."

"Dangerous? Maybe; illegal? Most definitely," Ron replied with a grin. "Everyone set to go?"

Without waiting for an answer, he started the ignition and pulled away from the house. Harry fidgeted nervously, holding the roses gently in his hands and occasionally fiddling with a few of the petals to relieve tension.

"Don't forget we have to make a quick stop before the movies," Hermione whispered to Ron. Ron merely nodded in understanding. Harry knew Hermione had told him about his yearly Halloween tradition. He was thankful that Ron was okay with it. He could again see confusion on Draco's face but Harry didn't feel like elaborating for the blond. He would probably find out soon enough on his own anyway.

He stared out onto the darkened and foggy streets as they drove, occasionally sliding around whenever Ron made a sharp turn. Thankfully, Draco always seemed to catch him before he would fall completely over.

It was a long drive to their destination and Harry was relieved when they finally pulled over and the car stopped. Ron turned off the engine, causing silence to fall around them completely.

"Here we are Harry," Ron said softly. "We'll wait here okay?" Harry nodded, and with his roses clutched in his hand, he climbed over Draco once more and opened the door. He hopped down and closed the door again. He noticed that everyone in the truck was watching him as he walked around it and made his way up to a black fence surrounding a large cemetery. Harry opened the gate; it creaked slightly on its hinges, and walked across the freshly mowed lawn. The sounds of water dripping from the tree leaves met his ears as he made his way through the deathly silent cemetery. He knew exactly where he was going, having made this journey many times already. He walked toward the very end of the cemetery, where two stones marked the site of two graves underneath a willow tree near the fence.

He kneeled down by them, his knees sinking into the wet earth and chilling him. He wiped away dried leaves that had fallen on the markers, revealing words engraved into them.

_James Potter_

_March 27, 1960-October 31, 1981_

_Beloved father, son, husband and friend_

_May he find rest_

And right next to it was that of his mother, James's wife:

_Lily Evans-Potter_

_January 30, 1960-October 31, 1981_

_Beloved mother, daughter, wife and friend_

_May she find rest_

Harry placed one of the white roses next to his father's grave and the other on his mother's. He sat there on his knees, staring down at the cold, glossy stones for what could have been an eternity. He ran his fingers over the names of his dead parents, digging his nails into them. He traced them over and over again, as he had done so many times in the past.

"Dad…" he said as he finished with the last letter of his dad's name. "Mum…" He moved to his mother's. "I'm here again, just like I promised last year. I'm really sorry I can't visit you guys more often, it's just this is really far away and I don't think Ron or the Grangers' can take me out here all of the time."

He sighed and sat back on his feet. "The Grangers' are still really nice. They treat me like a son. Mrs. Granger makes me think of what it would have been like to know you mum. She's always baking things and fretting over my clothes, just like how I imagined you would do. And dad; Mr. Granger, he's still a really great guy. Just like you dad. You were a really great guy too, I think. Oh yeah! And you know how I told you that I've been doing dancing? Well Hermione and I got a spot for the Christmas performances. Hermione's really excited. I think you two would have liked to see that. I'll be thinking of you all through it."

He looked up at the darkened, cloudy sky. The wind sighed through the trees, causing the branches to bend slightly and creak throughout the cemetery. "It's really dark and empty here. Do you guys ever get lonely? Of course not, I mean you've got each other now, wherever you guys are. I get lonely though; I really miss you. I barely remember you but I always feel this constant ache, like something really important is missing from my life."

He sat all the way down next to the graves. Leaves rolled across the grass as the wind swept past him. He looked down at the roses sitting in their places. "I brought you roses again; I never knew what kind of roses you like, mum and dad, or if you even liked roses. But I like the white ones; Mrs. Granger always buys me two every year to bring to you guys. She's very nice. I think you would have liked her a lot."

Harry plucked at the grass and breathed out slowly. He knew he couldn't be much longer; Hermione, Ron and Draco were still waiting. He knew they'd be patient but he still didn't want to be rude. "I met a new friend though; at least I think he's a friend. His name is Draco and he's been in a lot of trouble, so I know that would have made you fret a lot mum. But I think he just needs someone to be his friend. I wish you could have met him; along with Hermione and Ron."

Harry felt a small prickle of tears at the back of his eyes but held them back. He sniffed and coughed into his hands. "But I guess I should go soon. They're waiting for me out in Ron's old rusty truck," Harry laughed briefly, "and I shouldn't keep them waiting. I promise I'll come back next year, like always; maybe even sooner." Harry brushed his hand over their stones once again. He felt a sort of comfort flood through his body and it was soothing to him.

"I promise I'll come back," he whispered before standing up and brushing off his jeans. With one last look at his parents, he turned around and began trekking his way back across the cemetery.

When he got back to the truck, the night had gotten chillier and the three inside were looking a bit cold. He opened the door causing the three to turn and look at him. He gave them a small smile and climbed back inside.

"Everything go alright?" Hermione asked him as he settled back in.

"Yeah, everything's fine now."

"So we ready to hit the theaters?"

"Yep!" Harry's mood suddenly changed to excitement as he thought about spending a night out with his friends. Ron suddenly slammed on the gas pedal and they zoomed off, Harry sliding every which way, occasionally falling over on Draco. Hermione seemed to find this very funny and would laugh her butt off at it. Draco would just give him odd smiles.

"Ronald! Slow it down," Hermione admonished as she held onto the dashboard in front of her.

"Just trying to make good time Hermione," Ron answered as he swiveled his steering wheel.

"But we could…" Hermione was cut off as the sounds of sirens came up from behind them. She gasped and turned around to stare out the back window. "Shoot. See what you did Ron!"

"Calm down," Ron said. He then looked over to Harry. "Sorry mate." He quickly reached over and pushed Harry down onto the floorboard, right between Draco's legs. Harry hit his head on the dashboard but quickly scrunched up. "Grab my bag Hermione and throw it over Harry." Hermione did as she was told, causing Harry to be completely hidden from view. 'This is fantastic,' he thought bitterly.

Ron slowed the truck down and pulled to the side of the road. Harry's heart was beating in his chest as he felt claustrophobia kick in. He felt like he couldn't breath in the tiny space and Draco kept accidentally kicking him with his feet every time he moved.

"Ouch," he hissed when Hermione's foot collided with his ribs.

"Shhh," she whispered to him.

'Then stop kicking me," Harry thought. He heard the sounds of someone approaching the car and Ron rolling down his window.

"Evening officer," he heard Ron say.

"Did you know you have a tail light out son?"

"Er…no I didn't."

"You need to get that fixed."

"Yeah…yeah, I will I promise."

"Good. I'll let you off without a ticket this time but you gotta get that light fixed."

"I will the first thing tomorrow."

"Alright." There was a brief silence in which Harry felt sure the police officer was taking a look around the truck. The others must have looked a sight, all crammed in together. It definitely wouldn't be good if the officer caught another boy stuffed underneath their feet. "You all drive safe tonight, some weirdos out on Halloween night you know."

"We will sir," Ron replied.

"Take care and have a good night."

"You too." With that, Ron rolled his window back up and they waited for the officer to get in his car and drive off before Harry threw the bag off of him and took a deep breath of air.

"What the hell?" he said to Ron with a glare. "A little warning next time before you decide to shove me around."

"Sorry Harry," Ron said. "Just had to make sure he didn't see you." Harry struggled free from his prison and climbed back up top. "Can't afford another ticket you see."

"_Another?"_ Hermione questioned.

"Well yeah you see." Ron rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "I've gotten a few speeding tickets in the past."

"Oh Ronald, you're impossible!"

"Hey guys, can we get going? We might be late for the movie." Harry was getting impatient and really wanted to get out of the car. He was suddenly very aware of how close he was to Draco. The blonde's breath was tickling the back of his neck, causing shivers to run down his spine. He felt goosebumps rise up on his flesh. He was also rather aware of the fact that the other boy had hardly said a thing the entire time they had been there.

When they finally reached the movie theater fifteen minutes later, Harry was the first one out of the truck, then Draco, followed by Hermione and Ron. Harry looked up at the theater and his eyes traveled down the list of movies that were playing. They would be going to see the latest horror movie out; the same as just about every other person going to the theaters that night.

"Do you like scary movies?" Harry asked Draco as they walked up to the ticket booth in a group. Draco looked down at him.

"I guess," he answered with a shrug. "These kinds of things don't scare me anymore though."

"Oh," was all that Harry could think to say in return.

"I haven't been to the theaters in awhile," the other said with a thoughtful expression.

"Then I guess this should be fun for you."

"I suppose."

"Four for the next showing please," Ron said to the ticket lady. Harry turned away and studied his scenery as the girl calculated their price. He noticed a bunch of people hanging about, some even dressed in odd Halloween outfits; they were laughing and joking around.

"So Harry." Harry was brought out of his revere by the sound of Draco's voice. He looked up at the taller boy. "What were you doing back there at that cemetery?"

"Oh…I was visiting my parents' graves."

"Oh, you do that a lot?"

"Usually just on Halloween."

"Why only on that day?"

"Because that was the day they died. And since that cemetery is kind of far away, I don't really get rides there very often."

"Ah, I see."

"Ready guys?" Ron said as he walked over to them with the tickets in hand. "This is gonna be great. I heard this movie is super scary."

"I hope it's not too scary," Hermione said as she pursed her lips over her large teeth.

"Don't worry; I'll protect you if you get too scared." Ron waggled his eyebrows at her.

"As if," Hermione said and walked past him in a huff. Ron just shrugged at the others and they followed. They got popcorn and drinks at the concession center in the front lobby. Harry got himself a box of chocolate covered raisins as well. They paid for their stuff and made their way to their theater room.

It was dark inside; they had a hard time finding their way to some empty seats. It was almost completely packed. Harry kept accidentally walking into Ron every time they stopped to look around, which would then cause Draco to step on his shoes from behind. But eventually they made their way (very clumsily) to a few vacant seats near the front. Ron, Hermione, Harry and Draco sat down, in that order. The seats were a tad uncomfortable and the floor was very sticky but they settled in for the movie anyway.

Harry had always been easily excitable, therefore the movie played with his nerves very well. He tried to calm the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach every time someone got murdered, causing blood to appear in spurts and puddles. He never liked the sight of blood. When one of the women on the screen screamed loudly, Harry jerked in his seat and grabbed the nearest thing to him. It so happened that that thing was Draco's arm.

"Sorry," Harry whispered as Draco pulled his arm free. Harry turned and saw Hermione hiding her face in Ron's shoulder. Ron didn't seem to mind this one bit; he even had a slight grin on his face. Harry cleared his throat and looked back up on the screen, just in time to see the murderer jump out from behind a tree. He gasped and latched onto Draco's hand, squeezing it tightly.

"Harry, my hand," Draco whispered as he tried to wriggle his hand from Harry's grip once again. Harry immediately let go and blushed. "You have a pretty strong grip." Draco began rubbing his tender hand and kept it in a place where Harry couldn't get at it again.

Harry tried to keep his hands to himself by clenching and unclenching them on the arm rest of his seat. He chewed on his lips until a drop of blood trickled down his chin. He hadn't thought he would get this easily frightened from a movie.

"Relax," Draco whispered from beside him. "It's just a movie, none of that is real." He gave him a reassuring pat on the hand. "If you get too scared, just close your eyes." Harry looked over at him and smiled. Draco had already turned his attention back to the screen, unaware of Harry's thankful expression.

Harry, however, kept his attention focused on the blond boy. The flickering of the screen illuminated against the boy's pale blond hair and face, giving him an eerie yet intriguing look. He was so fixated on the boy that he hadn't realized Hermione had jumped out of her seat until her soda spilled all over his lap.

"Ack!" he yelped as the icy cold liquid soaked through his jeans. He turned to the girl with surprise.

"S-sorry Harry," she stuttered. "Got frightened. That's all."

"It's okay Hermione." Harry swiped ice from his lap and onto the floor. "I'll just go to the restroom and clean up."

"Okay," Hermione whispered and gave one last apologetic smile before turning back to the movie. Harry stood up and climbed over Draco and a few other people to get out onto the aisle. He walked out of the theater and into the hallway. He headed down it until he found a door with a sign on it that told him it was the men's restroom. He opened the door and walked inside; there were only two other people in there as well.

He walked over to the sink and turned on the faucet. He grabbed a few of the paper towels from the dispenser and wetted them under the stream of water. Wiping the sticky substance from his jeans as best he could, he grabbed another dry towel and began blotting himself dry.

'I look like I pissed myself,' Harry thought with a little humor. When he was finished, he threw the towels away and cupped some water in his hands. He then splashed his face wet, washing away the sweat he had collected while sitting in the stifling theater room. He hadn't paid much attention to his surroundings until the door to the restroom opened once more and the sound of footsteps approached him.

Harry looked up, his hair sopping and water dripping from his face. He came face to face with Draco; the blond was looking over his appearance with interest.

"Trying to drown yourself?"

"Er…no," Harry replied as he grabbed another paper towel and began drying his face. He then picked up his glasses, which he had set on the counter, and placed them back on himself. "What are you doing here?"

"Hermione wanted me to check up on you," Draco said. "She would have done it herself, but since this is the boy's bathroom she couldn't; and Ron didn't seem to want to get up from his spot being held by Hermione."

Harry's eyes followed as the two other men in the room made their way out before focusing them back on the boy standing before him.

"Well anyway, should we…"

"What's that on your face?" Draco cut him off, his eyes locked on Harry's face.

"What?"

"Looks like you have a giant bruise covering your cheek."

'Oh god,' Harry thought as he went over to the mirror to check his reflection. True enough, his bruise was clearly visible. He must have washed off the make-up without thinking.

"That wasn't there before, what happened?"

"Uhm, nothing," Harry stuttered.

"Wait…were you wearing _make-up_?" Now Draco was looking at him with amusement. Harry felt himself heat up at being the object of the boy's scrutiny.

"Well…you see…I mean…maybe?"

"Listen, I really don't care what you do with yourself. I was just curious okay? Don't have a heart attack over it."

"Heh, yeah okay," Harry said. They were just about to head out the door when it banged open and a group of boys walked right into them. Harry stumbled backward as a particularly large one nearly mowed him over.

"Watch it shrimp," the boy growled as he shoved past him. Harry glowered at him.

"Jerk," he said.

"What did you say?"

"I called you a jerk," Harry replied boldly.

"Better watch your mouth little kid," the boy replied as he advanced on him. He shoved Harry backwards, causing him to hit the wall hard. Harry winced and straightened himself.

"Whatever, let's go Draco." Harry was about to open the door to leave when he felt a hand on his shoulder. The hand yanked him backward before shoving him to the ground.

"What the hell?"

"You think you can just walk out on us?" the boy growled. The other kids around him were grinning and laughing at the spectacle.

"Uh yeah," Harry said as he got back up. "I do."

"And what about you?" the boy said to Draco, who was just standing in the background. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

"No."

"Gonna leave your little friend to fight on his own then?"

"He seems to be handling himself fine without me," Draco shrugged. Harry looked at him and smiled.

The boys looked enraged at Draco's indifference to the situation. Harry had the feeling that the whole thing could have blown out of proportion if it weren't for the security guard who decided to walk in at the moment.

"What's the commotion in here?" he asked them as he looked each boy in the face.

"Nothing," Harry said quickly. "We were just leaving." Harry and Draco swiftly walked out of the restroom. When they reached the lobby, they saw Ron and Hermione standing near the exit, waiting for them. The movie must have ended while they were in there.

"There you are," Hermione said as they approached her. She gasped when she saw Harry's cheek.  
"Harry what happened?"

Harry took a minute to realize what she was talking about before it hit him. Thinking up an excuse quickly, he said, "Oh, um there were some boys in the restroom who started a fight, that's all." He quelled his guilt by telling himself that that wasn't exactly a lie.

"A fight in the restroom? Gods Harry, what were you thinking?"

"It's not like I wanted it."

"Fine, whatever, let's just get out of here." They walked from the theater. As the cold night air hit their flushed faces, Harry couldn't get rid of the distinct feeling someone was following them. He looked over to Draco and he saw that the boy was also feeling the same way.

"Behind us," he mouthed to Harry. Harry looked over his shoulder and saw the boys from the bathroom following at a distance from them. His heart skipped a beat but not wanting to alarm Hermione, he didn't say anything.

"Uh hey, it's kind of cold, let's hurry up yeah?" Harry said, trying to sound casual.

"Okay," Ron said as they picked up the pace. It was rather crowded outside; kids with treat bags were trailing behind their parents and teenagers dressed in skimpy and scary Halloween outfits were hanging around the shops and theater. When they reached the place they had parked, they all piled back in and shut the door. Harry looked behind him through the window and saw the group of boys get in their own car.

'Maybe they'll just leave now,' Harry thought hopefully as Ron started his car. The sounds of Michael Jackson's _Thriller_ blasted from the radio and they pulled out onto the road.

It was mostly a quiet drive from the theater, save for the music pumping from the sound system. Harry felt Draco squirming beneath him, obviously checking behind them every once and awhile as well. They had both noticed the car trailing behind them. It was when they were driving down a dark and desolate road with only a few abandoned warehouses around, did the unthinkable happen. Ron's car died.

They rolled to a stop, the tires crunching over the gravel. The music had died and the lights flicked off.

"Oh, no, no," Ron moaned as he turned the key a few times. The engine made a few stuttering sounds but remained motionless. "Bloody hell, what a piece of junk."

"You've got to be kidding me," Hermione said. "How can this have happened Ronald? Don't you ever check your…."

"GET DOWN!" Draco suddenly yelled. Harry found himself being pushed down with a solid weight atop him. Hermione screamed as the window behind them shattered and glass rained down on them. Harry could feel Draco's rapid heartbeat on his back as silence followed.

"Get up!" he ordered as he pushed open the passenger door and jumped out. He quickly grabbed Harry's arm and hauled him out. Hermione and Ron, both looking pale and shaken, followed suit. Harry looked around and saw the car with the boys from earlier stopped a few yards from them. One of them was leaning out the window with a gun in his hand.

"RUN," Draco commanded as he pushed Harry. Harry jumped but did as he was told. He ran down the darkened street with the others behind him. The darkness pressed down on them and he heard the sound of squealing tires behind them. Harry suddenly felt fear grip his every being.

"Watch it!" Harry felt someone slam into him, causing him to fall to the side of the road. He landed hard in the dirt just as the car went zooming past them. He realized just how close he was to being run over. He glanced around and saw Draco crouching down beside him.

"Are you alright?" he asked him as Harry stood back up.

"Yeah. Where are Ron and Hermione?"

"I don't know, I think they ran in a different direction."

"What?" Harry looked around wildly. What if those boys were still chasing his friends? "Come on, we have to go find them!" Harry ran off down the street and he heard Draco following him. His eyes searched everywhere as he ran; where were they? Were they hiding? Did they even run this way? Were they already…dead? Harry didn't want to think about that.

"Where are they?" he almost shouted in frustration after ten minutes of searching.

"I don't know," Draco said as he stopped a few feet in front of him, facing him. Harry's eyes widened, however, when a pair of blinding headlights were heading straight for them at an alarming speed.

"Behind you!" Harry yelled; he ran at Draco and pulled him out of the way just in time. The weight of the other boy caused Harry to overbalance and both of them to fall. They went rolling down the hill until Harry slammed into a chain-linked fence painfully. He felt the air in his lungs leave him as Draco rolled right into him.

"Ow," he wheezed as he untangled their legs and pushed the other boy off of him. "There are a lot of maniacs on the road today."

"Yeah," Draco said as he rubbed his shoulder. "That was close. Thanks."

"Just returning the favor." Harry stood up, massaging his ribs and looked around. They had rolled into the area surrounding the road. The road was elevated on a hill from it, therefore causing most of where they were to be hidden from view. He looked up at the fence he had rolled into and noticed it surrounded a large factory. It appeared as if they were towards the back end of it.

"I don't think anyone will see us down here," Harry commented. "But we need to find Hermione and Ron." He started his way back up the hill when a couple of voices stopped him in his tracks.

"Harry! Harry!" it echoed. "Where are you?"

"Hermione?" Harry called back.

"Harry!"

"Hermione, we're down here!"

He saw two dark figures appear at the top of the hill. He recognized them immediately as those of Ron and Hermione. He began the small climb back up the hill.

"How did you guys end up down there?"

"Never mind that Hermione, what I want to know was why those guys were shooting at us. I mean did you see what happened to my car!" Ron looked both shocked and angry.

"It was those boys I was telling you about," Harry said, feeling guilty about the whole ordeal. "I guess they took the fight more seriously than I thought."

"Well, as long as we're all safe," Hermione said as she chewed her bottom lip. "And look at you two; you're both covered in mud." Harry looked at himself and noticed that he was, indeed, covered in dirt.

"And we need to find a way to get back home, it's getting really late," Ron said.

"What about those guys, where did they go?" Harry questioned.

"I dunno, I think they sped off as soon as they lost track of us."

"That was really close too."

"Tell me about it, Draco and I almost got ran over twice."

"I guess that police officer wasn't lying when he said there'd be weirdos out tonight," Ron said as they began trekking their way back to his truck. By the time they reached it about three miles back down the road, the temperature had dropped a few degrees and it was pitch dark out.

Ron looked around in his car before opening the door. He swiped some glass from the seat and sat down. He gave the ignition a few more tries before deciding there was no way it was going to start.

"Looks like we're definitely walking," he said as he got back out. He grabbed his bag and pulled out a flashlight from the glove compartment.

"Maybe there's a house nearby that has a phone we could use?"

"There was a factory back there, maybe it has one."

"I think it was closed down Harry."

"Oh."

"Let's just get walking before it gets any later and the rest of the weirdos decide to show up."

Harry felt sluggish and weak on the long walk down the never ending road. There were hardly any houses around and all of the shops were several miles behind them. It was frighteningly dark due to the lack of moonlight. Several clouds had rolled across it, blocking it from view. The only thing penetrating the darkness was the feeble light coming from Ron's torch.

Shivers ran down his body as the night air pressed upon him. He couldn't wait to get underneath a nice warm blanket, away from the cold.

"How about that house?" Hermione pointed to a house across the street from them. It was dark and very run-down, with weeds growing tall around it. Harry would have been surprised if anyone actually lived there.

"Are you mad Hermione?" Ron said incredulously. "That's the witch's house."

"Witch's house?" Hermione asked him with a raised eyebrow.

"You know, the old lady who kills unsuspecting children for her evil practices."

"Oh Ronald, that's a bunch of nonsense."

"No it's not, and I'm not going up to that house."

"Do you want to continue walking in this dark for hours, just waiting for those guys to come back and shoot us to death?"

"It's better than going over there. I sense evil coming from that place."

"You sense evil? Oh please Ron, that's the silliest thing I've heard."

"It's not silly."

"Fine, whatever, but I'm going up to it and finding us a phone."

"I'll go with you," Harry said. Draco nodded in agreement.

"No! Hermione, Harry, don't go! She'll make you into stew! She'll grind your bones for her bread!"

"Oh be quiet Ron," Hermione grumped as she, Harry and Draco all crossed the street. Ron didn't seem to want to be left alone out in the dark because a moment later he ran up to them.

"Just wanted to uh…make sure you guys didn't get caught by her evil witchcraft."

"Right," Hermione said as she rolled her eyes and raised a fist to knock on the door. It resounded throughout the night eerily. They waited for a few moments but the house remained dark and silent. It seemed as if Harry's assumption of no one living there was correct.

"Well that's just great," Hermione said as she turned to them. "No one's home."

"Let's just get out of here," Ron recommended.

They were all just about to head back down the porch steps when the door creaked open. They jumped and turned around quickly in time to see an elderly old lady standing in the doorway. She was hunched over, her skin wrinkly and covered in liver spots, her hair stringy and silvery as it fell across her bony shoulders. Her eyes were rather sharp as she took in the intruders standing on her porch.

"Yes?" she asked them in a croaking voice.

"Erm," Hermione cleared her throat, obviously taken aback by the woman's appearance. "We...we…you see our car broke down and we need a phone."

The old lady was silent as she watched them. Harry squirmed where he stood, not liking the way she was staring at them.

"A phone you say?" Hermione nodded. "Yes, yes I have a phone you may use."

"Thank you," Hermione said with a smile. The old woman waved them inside. "It's in the den young lady." The house smelled of rust and wet cat. Harry looked around and noticed the cluttered appearance of the home; pictures hung crooked on the walls, figurines took up shelf and table space; books lay scattered across the sofa and floor and old dirty dishes were stacked on the coffee table.

Harry stood in the sitting room with the others as Hermione went to use the phone. He heard the faint meowing and assumed there was a cat somewhere nearby.

"Ahem, so you…you live here by yourself?" Harry asked, trying to break the uncomfortable silence.

"For thirty years," the woman mumbled. "Thirty years I have lived alone."

"I see…" Harry broke off and shifted on his feet. He wished Hermione would hurry up.

"I don't get visitors very often."

"Oh." There was more silence before Hermione finally reentered the room.

"I called my dad, he's on his way."

Harry sighed in relief, ready to get out of that place.

"Let's get going then…er thanks for letting us use your phone ma'am."

But the old lady wasn't paying attention.

"It's been so long since I've had visitors," she said as she approached him. "So very long. And such young ones too. Your skin is so very smooth." Harry's eyes widened as the woman's gnarled old hand reached out and rubbed against his cheek. He shuddered at the feel of her wrinkled flesh.

"Er…thanks," Harry said as he looked around for help.

"Such pretty skin," the woman mumbled. "Not like this woman's old skin. I would so very much love to have such silky skin as yours."

"Okay, I'm out of here," Ron said and Harry couldn't help but agree. He fumbled behind him for the doorknob and turned it as the woman continued to advance on him. He pushed open the door and rushed out.

"Come back any time for a visit, young ones!" the woman called as they rushed out of the house.

"See Hermione! I told you she was evil," Ron yelled as they ran down the steps and back across the street.

"She wasn't evil, she was just lonely."

"She was right loon. Did you see the way she was touching and looking at Harry? It looked like she wanted to tear off his skin and wear it around her house."

"Oh Ron, you always come to such awful conclusions."

"You saw it too Hermione and you know it!"

"Well, whatever…now we just have to wait for my dad." They sat down by the side of the road, huddled together. The clouds finally moved away from the moon, allowing silvery light to shine down on them. Harry glanced over at Draco and noticed the way he was intently studying his hands. 'What a great way to start out a friendship,' Harry thought.

It wasn't much longer before Hermione's father's car pulled up to the side of the road where they sat. They all jammed into the backseat, welcoming the warmth that the car was offering.

"Goodness, look at all of you! What happened?"

"Nothing dad, Ron's car just broke down." Harry noticed the way Hermione deliberately left out the information about the boys with the gun and the mad old woman.

"Do you need to call a tow truck?" Mr. Granger asked as he drove down the street.

"I can call one when I get home." Harry knew Ron would also have to file a police report for the damage. He felt sorry that the guy had such bad luck sometimes.

"Alright."

Mr. Granger dropped Ron off at his home first before turning to Draco.

"What's your address?"

"Er…you know what; it's not that far from here, I can walk home. Really, it's okay."

"What? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, thanks Mr. Granger." Harry watched as Draco climbed from the car and started walking away from them.

"Strange kid," Mr. Granger said as he pulled away. As Harry watched Draco's back disappear into the night, he couldn't help but agree.

* * *

Author's Note: Well well well, look who finally decided to drag their sorry ass over to the computer and finish this chapter? Haha. Anyway, here it is! A long one too! Over eight thousand words. Oi. So, so, so sorry for the delay. Really I am. I really hope this chapter was satisfactory. It was just supposed to be kind of a lighthearted one, but with a little excitement toward the end. You know, a break from all the angst. The old woman...may or may not come back into the story :D I made it so it seemed as if she might play a part later on, but wouldn't hurt the plot if not. Anyway, I tried, but I think failed, to make this chapter somewhat humurous, despite some of the events.

And this chapter dedication goes to: **katherine **Thanks for reviewing!

Oh and on a side note, don't forget to check out Insanely Evil Kitty Cat's story **Pain**, it's a good one!


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

November had finally arrived and with it came steely gray skies and blustery weather. Trees lined bare, disposed of all of their leaves, which now lay in colorful piles in the gutters and on lawns. People were wrapped snuggly in their knitted scarves and gloves, hoping to keep out the biting frost of the fresh autumn air. Everyone seemed to be in a cheery mood; maybe it was due to the recent holiday festivities-kids were stuffed with sweets and talking all about what they did the night before. Or maybe it was just the fact that a new month had arrived and everyone was looking forward to what it might have in store for them. Either way, there was a definite note of change in the atmosphere.

For one person however, the mood did not seem to reach him. Amidst all of the merriment was a lone boy brooding over the fact that he was sitting in his mathematics class, listening to his teacher drone on, with his mind elsewhere. His eyes blinked slowly as he stared out the window. It was lucky his desk was right next to it; it gave a clear view of the back of the school, where the track field was. A tree grew up next to the building and the branches sometimes scraped against the glass of the window; Draco would watch the progress of the dry leaves that finally gave up and drifted to the ground.

He sighed and sat back in his seat at a slouch, messing with the cuff of his uniform jacket absentmindedly. As usual, he didn't want to be here; it felt as if he shouldn't be, sitting there idly while he could be out doing something important. His mother had always taught him that education was crucial, but at his current stage in life, Draco found it to be the last thing that was important to him.

He rested his cheek on his hand and continued to gaze out the window. Luckily, his maths teacher never usually paid attention to much, seeing as he was constantly turned toward the chalk board. He was currently writing a large equation on it for some brave soul to attempt to solve. This gave Draco plenty of time to just daydream and think over everything currently plaguing his thoughts.

It seemed the thing that was most predominantly on his mind was everything that happened last night. Draco had no way of calling the Granger family and Harry Potter ahead of time, seeing as he spent all night on the street and was just wandering it that day. He decided to just show up at the address Harry had given him on the paper. When he had arrived, everyone welcomed him very warmly-it was a bit overwhelming in his opinion. He had never been quite used to having that sort of people around him a lot.

But everything had been fine once they got out of the house and into that Weasley's rust bucket. He couldn't believe anyone would own such a car-even Draco, who didn't have a car at all, would have preferred to continue walking rather than drive around in something like that. And of course Weasley's solution to the seating problem had been dangerous and pea-brained at that.

Draco frowned and chewed his tongue between his teeth as last nights events continued to roll through his mind. When Harry had gotten in the car and sat down on him, he had been uncomfortable to say the least. But what bothered him was the way his breath hitched as the small boy squirmed around on his lap, and the shivering feeling he got whenever the boy pressed too close to him. And now Draco was questioning whether or not that discomfort had been because he hadn't wanted someone sitting on him, or because he had gotten strange feelings from it.

And of course he hadn't been frightened of the movie one bit, but what had shocked him was that Harry had been. He couldn't believe anyone could be scared of a cheesy horror flick like that one, but whenever Harry made a grab for his arm, it surprised him. The boy was seeking comfort from him! Him, Draco Malfoy. Nobody had ever done that before. Usually, they were just afraid or disgusted by him. He didn't know what to make of the other boy's surprisingly strong grip on his arm. Instead, he just shook it off, not wanting to deal with a scaredy-cat boy clinging to him anyway.

But he had taken pity on the poor boy after seeing his frightened face and offered a few comforting words and a pat on the hand. It seemed to have worked because Harry's whole demeanor relaxed considerably. That surprised Draco to no end as well-he had just comforted somebody that wasn't his mother, and it had worked. He kind of liked it.

But of course, he should have expected something like the incident in the bathroom and car to happen. He had come to the conclusion that Harry Potter attracted too much unwanted trouble. He hadn't really wanted to step in on the fight again, seeing as Harry didn't really appreciate him doing it the last time. And he had to hand it to the little runt; he really could hold his own well.

In his experience with bullies and gang members, they didn't like to be one-upped at all. And he found it true when he first sensed the boys following them back out of the theater. He wasn't sure what was going to happen; he figured they would just follow them, harass them and then take off. What he hadn't expected was the gunfire. His first reaction was to duck, and surprisingly (the night sure was full of surprises) he had brought Harry down with him, shielding him from the raining glass. It was a reflex, he told himself.

And as always, the chase-and-run sequence had been an exciting one-what with almost getting plowed by a car and rolling down a dirt hill and slamming into Harry. Of course, he had been a bit shocked when it was Harry who had pulled him out of the way; he supposed he shouldn't have been that surprised, seeing as Harry didn't seem like the type of boy to just let someone get run over; but still, this was Draco Malfoy he had saved. Most people wanted to see Draco get hit by a bus or worse.

The night had ended in the most unusual way (disturbing would be the more proper word) with a batty old lady with some weird fetish for skin. Draco had kept a safe distance but couldn't help but take pity when Harry had been the closest to her, and therefore the one to be subjected to being touched and ogled. But what the lady had said was true; Harry did have soft looking skin, which was something that he found maddeningly attractive.

'Oh good, now I'm thinking of blokes with attractive skin,' Draco thought as he rolled his eyes at the window. It was thanks to that lady that he found the uncomfortable-ness he felt around Harry increase tenfold. He had to get out of that car, where he was sitting far too close to the other boy. So he just jumped out the next chance he had gotten, which was at the Weasley's house.

And he had spent most of the night trying not to think about what had happened-it was all too fresh in his mind to really absorb, but now, here he was mulling it all over until it sunk in and stuck there. There was something just so damn frustrating about Harry; the kid practically wormed his way into his life, even after Draco's best efforts to get rid of him, and then invites him out to be friends. And Draco accepted. Did that mean they were actually friends now?

The bell signaled the end of class, successfully interrupting Draco's train of thought. He quickly gathered up his notes, books and pens and stuffed them in his bag. He got up with the rest of the class and made his way out into the hallway.

It was like any other Friday; spirits were higher than usual and students and teachers alike were looking forward to the weekend. It didn't make any difference to Draco; every day was the same to him. He would still have to work, he would still have to go home to his sick mother and drunken father, he would still have to face the fact that his life was heading down an unmanageable spiral. Life didn't just suddenly take a break because it was the weekend…at least, not for him.

He shoved his way through the mass of students all heading to their next class. The chattering buzzed in his ears and the closeness of everyone in the narrow hall had him tense. It took him a good few minutes to realize that someone was calling him.

"Draco! Draco!"

Draco turned around, which caused a small girl to accidentally smash right into him. She gave a few frightened and squeaky apologies before running off. Draco just ignored her and searched through the crowd of people for the person calling him.

'Ah, of course,' he thought as he saw the object of his thoughtfulness. The dark-haired person made their way to him and smiled when they did.

"Hi," Harry said, his eyes sparkling with kindness.

"Er, hey."

"So um, some night last night huh?"

"Yeah, you can say that."

"I'm really sorry it turned out that way. It wasn't exactly how I wanted our friendship to start out."

"Don't worry about it."

"You're not angry or anything? I mean it's kind of my fault those guys bothered us."

"No, I'm not angry."

"Oh good. Then you'll want to hang out again sometime?" Harry asked as they continued walking down the hall. Apparently Harry's class was in the same direction as his, so it gave the boy an excuse to walk with him. Draco felt mildly annoyed with this.

"I dunno Harry; I mean I have a lot of work most nights…" Harry's expression seemed to cloud over with disappointment and Draco suddenly felt another pang of guilt. How did this boy do that to him?

"Oh, well that's too bad."

Draco bit the inside of his cheek but continued walking.

"Listen uh maybe…" He was cut off however by someone shoving into him roughly. Draco surged forward and would have lost his balance if Harry hadn't caught his wrist in time. Once righted again, Draco spun around with his face set in anger.

"Oops sorry," the taunting voice responded. "Hey, look who it is guys; it's the little runt who thought he could fight and his blond ponce." It was the boys from the movie theater last night. It was just his luck that people like that would be in the same school as him.

Draco looked down at Harry and saw the boy blushingly madly; he wasn't sure if it was from anger or embarrassment-or possibly a combination of both.

"Draco isn't a ponce!" Harry retorted, "And I'm not a runt."

"Then prove it, Pint-size." The largest boy, who had sandy brown hair and blue eyes, shoved Harry hard against the wall.

"I don't need to 'prove' anything to you," Harry shot back, straightening himself.

"Afraid then? Maybe he doesn't want to break a nail. Is that it, princess?"

"Shut it." Draco could tell Harry was angry. The boy's usually calm demeanor was tense and in self-defense mode. His voice was cold and biting.

There was raucous laughter from the group of boys as Harry glared definitely at them.

"Such a feisty li'l punk. Seems you didn't learn your lesson last night."

"I bet you thought you were tough, shooting at us like that and then driving off."

"Uh, yeah we did actually."

"My friend's car was wrecked because of you."

"Maybe next time you should show some respect before you go around insultin' those better than you. Then nothin' and nobody will get hurt."

"Oh yeah, real big of you," Harry said as he rolled his eyes. He didn't seem to want anything to do with what the boys had planned for them and did the worst thing one could do in a situation like that-turned his back on them.

"Oi, don't you turn around!" Draco watched as everything happened in a blink of an eye; first, the boy shot a hand out and grabbed Harry's shoulder. Harry tensed up but swung around and landed a backhanded slap to the kid's face. The other looked shocked for a moment before bringing his fist back and landing a punch squarely in Harry's nose. Harry gasped, stumbled a bit and yelled out. He struggled out of the boy's grip and covered his nose with one hand, blood dripping freely between his fingers. They looked like they were about to have another go, seeing as they all advanced on Harry. Harry was still clutching his nose but holding his other hand up as if trying to stop them from coming any closer.

"Hey!" Draco yelled and jumped in automatically. It was as if his legs moved of their own accord, stepping right into the middle of the commotion. He stood in front of Harry, who was whimpering slightly from the pain but still standing ready to defend himself.

"Look who finally grew some balls and decided to fight." They all smirked at Draco.

Draco just glared at the lot of them, not liking where this was heading one bit. Why was it every time Harry came around, stuff like this happened? The boy was bad luck.

"Why don't the lot of you just shove off? Didn't get enough last night, did you?"

It happened in a flash; the first hit missed him by an inch just as he stepped out of the way. From there, punches started flying. He could faintly hear the sounds of screaming in the background and someone calling for a teacher. Before he knew it, Draco found himself on his back with the larger boy on top of him, landing blows to his face. Pain erupted throughout his body. He brought his arms up to shield himself from the onslaught and rolled them over so he was now on top. He straddled the boy and began delivering his own rain of punches. They continued to roll around, occasionally slamming into other students standing by.

Two of the boy's friends came and hauled Draco up off of him and threw him back. He landed hard on the polished floor, pain shooting up and down his back. His heart was beating in his chest wildly as his breaths came out in short, pained gasps. He scrambled to his hands and knees but was immediately shoved back down with a harsh kick to the stomach.

"Stop it!" he heard Harry yell. Draco looked up and saw the boy trying to pry the others away from him. "You fucking bastards!" That shocked Draco. He hadn't heard Harry use such coarse language before.

"Gerroff!" the large one grunted as Harry jumped onto his back with his arms around his neck, trying to keep him from getting at Draco again. Draco couldn't help but find it slightly amusing to see the boy flailing around, backing up into walls and cursing in attempts to get Harry off of his back.

"Help me you sodding idiots! Get this rat off of me!" His friends stood around at a loss of what to do. It was about at this time that Draco noticed a group of teachers and prefects rushing right for them. 'Took them long enough.'

"What is going on here!" one of them shrieked. "Mr. Potter, what are you doing!"  
It took two teachers to pry Harry of his grip around the other boy. Harry immediately stopped struggling as soon as the adults had a hold of him. The boy he had been practically strangling fell to the ground gasping. A couple of teachers attended to him while one came striding in his direction.

"Mr. Malfoy," the oily voice said. Draco's heart skipped a beat as he looked up. The face of Severus Snape was looking down at him with disgust. "Get up boy." Draco immediately got to his feet despite the protest from his abused body. The one teacher to find him in this sort of situation just had to be Severus.

Draco shot a look over to Harry who was looking thoroughly ashamed at his actions. His face was covered in blood, contrasting wildly with his pale skin, and his lip looked to be busted as well, as blood dribbled freely down his chin.

"Pay attention!" Severus snapped, causing Draco to look back to him. "Do you have any idea what you have done Draco?"

"I got into a fight," Draco shrugged. "You act like that's unusual."

"You really have no idea…" Severus sighed. "I'm afraid you and Mr. Potter are to report straight to the headmaster's office. He will inform you of your punishments there."

"What about them?" Draco protested as he pointed to the group of boys currently being questioned by another teacher. "They started it."

"Don't worry about them, worry about yourself. Now get going." Severus shook his head. "You've really caused quite a mess for yourself this time."

Draco rubbed his cheek and started walking down the hallway. One of the prefects was leading the way, and Harry was following behind Draco. They marched slowly, heads down and feet echoing off the now empty halls. They descended a flight of stairs, turned a corner, and headed down another long and seemingly endless corridor. Draco's eyes were glued to the glossy floor as he watched the way the light from the windows and their shadows played across it.

Turning another corner and heading through a double glass door, they walked into the main office of the school. The lady at the front desk was taking phone calls as they walked past her; Draco could feel her eyes on them as they walked to the headmaster's office door. There was a bench against the wall right next to it and the prefect guiding them pointed to it with one finger.

"Sit," he ordered. "The headmaster will be with you shortly." Harry and Draco sat obediently as the prefect went off for a few moments before returning with a wad of tissue for Harry. He handed it to the boy.

"Keep that pressed against your nose to staunch the bleeding. We'll have the school nurse take a look at it once the headmaster is finished with you." Harry nodded as the prefect once again disappeared from view. They listened to the ticking of the clock and the occasional ringing of the phone as they sat there. Draco occasionally shot looks at Harry, who had his head leaned back and the wad of white tissue pressed against his nose. He suddenly felt very angry, sitting there and looking at the other.

By the time the door to the office opened up at last and the headmaster stepped out, Harry's nose had stopped bleeding for the most part. Draco looked up at the elderly man; he was average height with a graying beard and a bald head. He was wearing a pressed suit and thick-rimmed glasses.

"Come in boys," Headmaster Montgomery said as he waved them over. Draco and Harry stood up together and gathered into Montgomery's office. It was a roomy office with a large polished oak wood desk stacked with papers, important documents and folders. Behind it was a tall bookshelf with many titles by famous scholars. There were portraits of past headmasters lined up on one wall and there was a window on the far side that let in streams of mid-morning sunlight.

"Take a seat, gentlemen," Montgomery told them as he gestured at the two chairs facing his desk. The man sat in the seat behind his desk, light reflecting off his balding scalp and his glasses glinting oddly. Draco sat down, with Harry taking the chair to his left. He could tell the other boy was nervous; one of his hands was clenched against the armrest while he dug his nails into his fingers with the other, obviously a reaction to the nervousness.

"I've been informed that there's been another school fight in my halls," Montgomery cleared his throat, took out a folder from one of the piles and set it down for clear view. "And this hasn't been the first time you've been in trouble for something like this Mr. Malfoy."

Draco shifted uncomfortably-he knew his school records weren't exactly clean. He had a very vague idea of where all of this was heading.

"But first I'd like to hear the story from Mr. Potter; from my knowledge of you, this isn't a very common thing, is it?"

"No sir," Harry said, his voice thick. He cleared it a few times, his eyes darting nervously around the room.

"Would you care to explain this odd behavior on your part?"

"It was these two boys sir; they started the fight with us. I tried to walk away but they got violent."

"I see, and why would these boys want to start a fight with you?"

"Because…because last night we had a little run-in. They didn't like it very much."

"Did you do anything to provoke this?"

"No sir! Not at all. Well I mean…I did call them 'jerks' but they seemed like they were looking to start a fight with us and they had a-"

Draco rammed his foot into Harry's leg, causing the other boy to jump and turn to look at him. He gave him a very discreet shake of the head, signaling for the other boy to shut up. Draco didn't think it would be a very good idea to tell the headmaster every detail from last night's events. It could be unsafe.

"They had a what?"

"N-nothing, it's just that they continued to harass us and I guess they wanted to finish it up today or something. Honestly, I've never met them before so I don't know why they would choose to pick on us."

The headmaster looked at them over his spectacles, reading their every expression for any further information.

"You would not tell a lie would you Mr. Potter?"

"I swear that's what happened."

"And you have nothing further to divulge?"

"No sir."

"I see. Well Mr. Potter, your records has remained fairly clean, except for some bullying you have been subjected to, is the correct?"

Yes sir."

"In that case, you're in no immediate trouble. Though I think it's wise to speak with your guardian about these issues that have been becoming more frequent."

Draco noticed the way Harry paled considerably but did not say anything.

"I'll give them a call sometime next week. Will they be available?"

"I think so sir."

"Excellent. Well Mr. Potter, I think it would be best for you to just go home for the remainder of today's lessons. I still need to speak with the other students involved in the matter at hand before I can make any lasting decisions on your behalf. I daresay, however, that it would be prudent for you to visit the nurse's office to check you up. She will give your guardian a ring from there."

Harry nodded, stood up, gave a sympathetic and worried glance to Draco before walking from the room. Draco watched the boy leave until he disappeared and the door clicked shut behind him. He turned back to the headmaster with a half bored, half expectant expression on his face

"Mr. Malfoy," Montgomery said with a solemn look, "I'm afraid we've reached the limit to how many times we can let circumstances such as these slide. You've been warned on several occasions and even been administered punishment. None of this has seemed to have any effect."

Draco tapped his fingers against the arm rest; though outwardly calm and undeterred, inside his heart was banging against his ribcage and his mind was whirling with anxieties.

"Whether or not you started this fight, it is clear that you engaged in it. And since this not a first offence, I find it as my duty to protect the staff and students of this school to expel you permanently."

Draco's heart leapt to his throat and his stomach dropped sickeningly. He had been expecting this to happen, but that did not make the reality of it less shocking. What was he going to do now? To enroll into a new school would mean to move from the city.

"Your criminal record is rather substantial Mr. Malfoy. You spent the previous year in a detention center for assault am I correct? And your attendance has been less than impressive-our attempts to get you to attend lessons have failed. As such, I'm afraid the school governors will agree upon my decision; but if your parents so choose to make an appeal, then that is their right. I'm very sorry, but that is my final decision. Please wait outside while I inform your parents of what has happened."

Draco stood up, his legs like jelly and his arms feeling heavy, as if weighed down by lead. His head was swimming with everything he had just been told and his stomach was turning nauseatingly. The walk from the chair to the door seemed like a long one but by the time he had his hand wrapped around the cool brass of the doorknob, everything had processed fully. He had been expelled.

He sat down on the bench by the office and buried his head in his hands. If there was a bright side to look at, it would be that he now no longer had to worry about his education. It wasn't as if he had liked school or even made any attempts in it; but still, his mother was going to be devastated and his father…he would be nothing short of furious.

Ten or so minutes passed before the door to the office opened once again and the headmaster came out.

"Alright Mr. Malfoy. Your parents have been informed and they request that you go home immediately." Draco nodded, his face set in stone. Montgomery placed his hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture and gave it a little squeeze. "I'm very sorry."

Draco just shrugged and walked out of there. He didn't need their sympathy, he didn't need anybodies sympathy. He walked down the silent halls, his heartbeat deafening in his own ears and his breathing loud and harsh.

As he walked past the nurse's office, which was near the entrance to the school, he saw Harry Potter sitting in the chair. He passed the boy without a single glance in his direction, anger bubbling up inside of him once again.

"Draco, wait!" he heard the call, which echoed loudly down the hall. He stopped in his tracks but did not turn around. His eyes narrowed and his fists clenched, but he said nothing.

"Draco, what happened? Are you in trouble?" Harry was standing down the hall from him, his voice concerned and filled with curiosity.

"Leave me alone Potter."

"What? Draco what happened?" Harry now sounded confused and hurt.

Draco whipped around, his breathing even heavier now as his eyes connected with the boy across the hallway. His anger was blinding and consuming.

"This is your fault! If I had never met you, none of this would have happened. Just stay away from me Potter. Go back to where ever the fuck you came from and leave me the hell alone."

Harry's looked taken aback as he took a few tentative steps forward.

"Wha…I don't und-"

"I never wanted you in my life in the first place." Draco turned again and began striding down the hallway. "Just go away," he whispered.

"Draco w-wait! What did I do?" But Draco paid the boy no mind. He did not care that he could practically hear the tears falling from the other boy's green eyes, nor did he care that Harry sounded so absolutely crushed. He did not care at all.

---

'Just go inside,' he thought to himself as he stood face to face with his doorway. 'You've got to face the music sometime. I can't just stand on this doorstep for the rest of my life.' Though, he did find that option a lot more appealing than opening the door and going inside the house.

With a deep sigh and a little bit more urging from himself, he curled his hand around the knob and opened the door. It creaked a bit ominously and opened up to a darkly lit living room. The first thing he noticed was that both of his parents were sitting on the sofa, obviously waiting for him to come home.

He needlessly cleared his throat to announce his arrival; he knew they knew he was there but it was their silence that was concerning him.

"Look who decided to disgrace us with his presence," came the low hiss of his father, Lucius.

"Lucius please," Narcissa said weakly.

"Be quiet woman!"

"Don't talk to her like that!" Draco seethed. Lucius snapped his head to his son and narrowed his eyes.

"And don't you talk to me like that, you filthy, disgraceful trash."

"Lucius, we said we would discuss this in a calm manner!"

"Why are you defending the boy Narcissa? He has caused so much trouble already. He is no good, we both know that."

Lucius stood up and walked straight up to Draco.

"Well boy, do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"Only like-father-like-son, wouldn't you say so?"

"Why you insolent little…" Lucius did not finish his sentence as he sent a heavy blow to Draco's already bruise cheek. He fell backwards as his mother screamed.

"Lucius, no please!"

"Be quiet. He needs to learn his lesson!" Draco stood up and instantly tackled his father to the ground. He fisted the man's shirt and began banging his head against the floor.

"Draco, stop it! Stop it this instant. Lucius!" Lucius grabbed Draco around the neck and flung him across the room. Draco slid across the floor and banged against the wall harshly. Lucius walked up to him, hauled him up and pressed him against the wall. Draco just glared defiantly at his father. He had never hated the man more than he did at that very moment. His every being was burning with a fiery passion; the passion of hatred and disgust.

"Please, stop!" Narcissa begged as she tried pulling at Lucius's arm. Lucius just sent the woman flying backwards like a rag doll. She erupted in loud, harsh coughs as she hit the floor; her whole body began to shake and she started making noises as if she was chocking on something.

"D-Draco," she wheezed as she reached for her son. "Please don't hurt h-him."

"Mother!" Draco yelled as his mum collapsed onto the floor. He ripped himself from Lucius's grip and rushed to his mother's side. He fell to his knees beside her and picked her head up. Her eyes were closed but her whole body was feverish and shaking.

"C-call the hospital!" Draco yelled. He turned to his father. "Now!"

Lucius stumbled from the room, obviously in shock as he kept his eyes glued to the scene on the floor. When he finally disappeared into the kitchen to retrieve the phone, Draco turned back to his mother and grabbed her hand with his own.

"Please hold on mum," he whispered to her, his eyes filling with tears. "Hold on."

* * *

Author's Note: Eh. Man this chapter was a pain in the butt. But here it is at last! Please tell me what you thought of it. 

Anyway, I'm currently commiting writers suicide by devoting myself to three stories at once. This one, my new one called The Far Away Sky and...do you all remember Rose Madder? Well that story is going through major, and I mean major revampage. I'm not posting the revamped chapters yet because I don't wanna confuse myself too much.

Ah well, please review. I work really hard on these chapters, so feedback is really appreciated. I won't hold the story hostage if you don't but really, it's always nice to recieve them. Remember, I have NO beta, just myself, so any pointing out of mistakes is always welcome. Thanks in advance!


	16. Chapter 16

Warning-Extremely emotional chapter ahead :P

Chapter Sixteen

"No, Harry! Come on, concentrate!"

Harry had suffered from his sixth fall that morning as he attempted another leap through the air. He had fallen rather harshly, landing painfully on his butt, followed by a loud 'oof!' Ron let out a loud whistle in the background as Hermione gave a frustrated growl. He huffed and leaned back on his hands, his breath blowing his bangs away from his face.

"What was that? I said _Echappés sautés_, not land on your butt as many times as possible!"

"Sorry Hermione," he responded as he struggled to stand up, rubbing his sore bottom. "I got a little more on my mind than my ballet moves okay?"

"If it helps any, I think that was your best fall yet, Harry," Ron called from across the room. Harry whipped his head in his direction and gave him a pointed look. "What? I thought it looked awesome."

"Just go back to eating your crisps Ron," Hermione said with a sigh before turning back to Harry. "What's going on with you today?"

"Just kinda distracted okay?" Harry answered a little more sharply than he intended. It was true; he had been distracted with the events between Draco and himself from yesterday. He was still in a sort of state of shock: what had happened? He thought things were going fine; was Draco angry at him for fighting? Harry hadn't meant for any of that to happen. And what had happened to Draco anyway? Harry heard rumor that the boy had been expelled, but he hoped not. Either way, he couldn't shake off the feelings of guilt overriding his brain.

"Well, I'm sorry but you really need to focus. We have to make up a routine soon."

"And practicing random dance moves is gonna achieve that?"

"Yes, at least for the first part. I wanna see what would look best together."

"Why did you choose ballet of all dances?"

"Because it looks the most graceful and elegant."

"You mean most tedious."

Harry sighed and wiped some sweat from his forehead. Miss Miranda's class taught all types of dances, therefore giving them a wide range to choose from. There had been a bit of a squabble as to what type of dancing they would be performing. Harry had suggested contemporary, considering that was what he was best at. Hermione, however, insisted on classical ballet, her specialty.

Harry had practically laughed when he first heard that was Hermione's dance of choice awhile back. It was obvious, really; the rigid, constructed manner of classical ballet seemed to fit so perfectly with Hermione's strict-rule attitude. Contemporary, however, allowed for much more freedom of movement, which was why Harry had taken to it. After quite a bit of argument, they had agreed upon a mix of the two; contemporary ballet.

"Okay, so your leaping is a bit off today, let's practice your pirouettes. _Retiré _position."

"_En dehors_ or _en dedans_?"

"Surprise me," Hermione grinned as she stood with her arms crossed, ready to analyze his every move. Harry rolled his eyes; it was as if Hermione was his instructor rather than his partner. But instead of saying anything, he moved into the _pli__é _position and began rising into demi-pointe. Bringing his left leg up and bending it so his toe was pointing toward his right knee, he proceeded to do several controlled outward rotations on his right leg; the sensation of feeling so light, so in control and yet so free filled his every being. His hair tickled his cheeks as continued to spin on his toes before coming back to his starting position. When he finished, he stood straight and looked at Hermione, awaiting her speculations.

"Looks like your pirouettes are fine," Hermione commented. "But I'll show you how it's really done." She then went about practicing her own spins. She rose intopointe and accomplished several more rotations than Harry had. He stuck his tongue out at her, and she returned it with a smug look.

"Show off," he mumbled as he walked over to the bench Ron was sitting at. They had spent a good part of the day at the dance studio by themselves; Miss Miranda had given them special permission to practice there, as long as they didn't stay later than nine P.M. So far they had spent the entire morning practicing all sorts of ballet moves. Harry's feet were throbbing painfully and his whole body was slicked with sweat.

"You call that elegant and graceful, Harry?" Ron asked with a raised eyebrow at the way Harry practically slugged across the dance floor. "I thought you dancers liked to prance and whatnot."

"Pran…? What are you on about?" Harry slumped down the bench and slipped off his white ballet shoes. He took special care in placing them back in his bag; it wasn't often that he used them, considering he preferred dancing barefoot, but many of the ballet moves were made easier if wearing the right sort of shoes. He massaged his feet as he watched Ron stand up from his seat on the bench.

"You know? Prancing." Ron moved his arms about in a flapping motion, wriggling his fingers as he did so.

"Yeah, yeah, I know what it is Ron, but what are you talking about?"

"Well you knooow, you always see dancers doing stuff like…" And then Ron did something that made Harry's eyebrows shoot up into his bangs. He began prancing around the room, rather like skipping, and right up to Hermione, who was busy practicing her pointe work. He did a couple of spins around her, smiling hugely. He seemed to be trying to imitate some of the dance moves they had been practicing earlier and stopped in front of her, linking his hands under his chin and batting his eyelashes.

"And pray tell, when have you ever seen a dancer do _that_?" Hermione asked with her hands on her hips and one eyebrow raised curiously.

"I dunno Hermione, I'd say that was a pretty good imitation of you," Harry called to her, knowingly peeving her. He felt like pushing her buttons a little bit, just to lighten the mood.

"Excuse me? Oh no Harry, you absolutely cannot even compare my expertly delivered routines with that load of tosh."

"Oh come on, Hermione, you don't think I look simply duh-vine?" Ron asked as he twirled around her once again and did a little bow. Hermione just clucked her tongue in annoyance.

"No, you look ridiculous, is what you look like." Hermione gave Ron a swat around the head, causing him to back away. "And it would be 'simply divine' if you just went back over there and stayed quiet."

"You'll have to catch me first!" Ron declared as he began running…er prancing…away from Hermione.

"Ron! Stop it! Come back here!" Hermione growled and stomped after him. Harry laughed at the absolutely menacing look on her face as she chased after him; his eyes followed the way Ron did what Harry could only describe as "slap-slapping": he was running around the room with his arms in front of him, flapping his hands around in a very girlish style.

Harry felt his grin start to fade as he watched the way Hermione grabbed onto Ron's arm, overbalancing the two of them. They went tumbling to the floor together, laughing (or in Hermione's case, growling) while rolling around and wrestling. They looked so happy together; he suddenly felt himself disappear into the background of things, unnoticed and invisible. He knew they were destined to be together, it was obvious; the chemistry between them was undeniable. But what would happen once they did? Would he become the third wheel? Would he find love too?

He absentmindedly fingered the hand shaped bruise on his wrist. It was hidden well enough underneath the black long-sleeved shirt he was wearing beneath his white tee. His uncle had been absolutely furious with him when he showed up in the middle of the day yesterday. Harry had tried to explain what had happened but his uncle wouldn't listen; needless to say, he had come out of it with more bruises than he had gone in with. Hermione didn't seem to notice the bruises that covered his arms and legs at all; it was cold enough outside for him to get away with his long t-shirt and track pants without suspicion.

"Just give up Hermione, you can't win!" he heard Ron yell, but it sounded distant, as if it were in another world. Harry couldn't get his mind away from Draco; the boy, he had looked so defeated and so angry after the fight. Harry had been hurt…he didn't know why, but his heart felt as if someone had been squeezing it tightly as he watched Draco walk away. He thought everything was going so great, that he had a new friend and that Draco was finally taking to him. And then it all just disappeared in a puff of smoke.

He didn't know why it was bothering him so much really; Draco was still technically a stranger. He barely knew him and yet, here he was feeling as if he just lost his best friend. He had felt a sort of connection grow between them through the short amount of time they had spent together. Harry couldn't quite explain what that connection was, not even to himself, but all he knew is that it had felt sort of like a spark of magic.

Harry was no stranger to loss and loneliness. His mother and father had died, and there was nothing he could do about that. He had no choice in the matter; not back then and not now. But this time, this time he felt like he could do something about it. He felt as if he had to make Draco understand that he needed friendship. He didn't want to suffer through another loss, a friendship gone. Friends were important to him, and he wasn't going to just sit back and let a potential friendship just walk away in a fit of anger. He would get to the bottom of it.

There was a loud thud from across the room that caused Harry to pull his sleeve over his wrist and look up. Apparently, Ron had fallen on his back with Hermione on top of him. She was holding down his wrists with her hands and staring down at him with a look of triumph.

"Okay, okay! I'll be good," Ron said as he flailed about, trying to get the girl off of him.

"Good," Hermione said with a smirk as she stood up and crossed her arms. Ron stood up too and rubbed his back grumpily.

"Blimey, Hermione, how did you get so strong?"

"Perhaps you are just weak."

"Oi! I am not weak."

"Uh-huh." She turned to Harry and rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I think we're done here Harry; you ready to go?"

Harry watched as she walked over to her bag and pulled her hair from her ponytail. She stuffed her ballet slippers into her bag and brought out her trainers.

"You know Hermione, why don't you and Ron go ahead? I think I'll just stay here for a bit longer."

"You sure? You'll have to walk home."

"I know; that's okay."

"Okay, well…we'll see you later then." Hermione looked at Harry with a bit of concern. Harry didn't mean to make his friend worry, he just suddenly felt like being alone. He also wanted to give Ron and Hermione a bit of time together; everywhere they went, he was always with them. He felt that if Hermione was ever going to discover her feelings for Ron, then they'd probably have to be alone to do it. He didn't want to impose on that.

He watched as they grabbed their stuff, chatting with each other. Harry couldn't help but notice the smile on Hermione's face as the two spoke, or the way that Ron absentmindedly tucked a piece of Hermione's hair behind her ear. They walked from the room, too immersed in each other to say another word to Harry. He waited for the last echoes of their voices and footsteps to disappear before he stood up.

His feet slid across the smooth floors, sending chills up and down his body. The room was lit by streams of white sunlight coming from the large windows on the opposite wall. He heard the sounds of distant thunder and knew a storm would be coming in soon, but he did not care. At the moment, he did not care about anything but the way his feet felt against the cold ground, the way his bruises hurt every time he moved, the way his thoughts kept drifting to Draco, the way his heart sped up every time he did so.

He turned and looked at the large mirror stretching across the wall. His eyes were met with his own reflection; dark and small standing alone in the large room. He rolled his head around, getting all of the kinks out of his neck. He then swept his foot across the floor, barely raised as he grazed it over the glossy wood. His body began to sway from side to side, his eyes fluttered closed, feeling himself just move. More thunder rolled, closer this time, but he did not try to drown it out. The sound was exhilarating as it prompted his body to move even more.

Clouds began to drift across the sky; he could tell by the way the room would get darker and then lighter again as the clouds rolled past the sun. He took a deep breath and raised his hands to the ceiling, bringing his head back so he could face upward. He did not dare open his eyes, afraid that everything would come crashing down on him if he did. He curled his toes and spread his fingers as his arms raised way above his head. He let out the air he was holding in his lungs before he began spinning around. His hands were still raised as he moved his legs, his feet causing friction with the floor.

It started out elegant, slow, and graceful; every little move he did was filled with such a desire, such sadness; a constant ache within his chest. He brought his hands down and moved them across his body, starting at his neck and then down across his chest and stomach. The touches were feather light and a bit sensual; no one had ever touched him in such a way, and he wanted to pretend that he was beautiful, that he was worth it.

More thunder and a light sprinkle of rain against the window. Just darkness now as the clouds finally blotted out the sun completely. His dancing was faster now. His pirouettes were quicker. One. Two. Three. Four. Five rotations. His heart was pounding, his breathing was ragged, his feet were sore and his toes were bleeding. His body ached from his bruises, the soreness a constant reminder of what he was and what he had. And yet it was what kept him going; he did not want to resign to a worthless fate, as his uncle had so often told him was his future.

All elegance was gone as his movements became that of raw passion and expression. No more Hermione to dictate his every move, no more stiff and neatly executed moves. It was just him now. He spun and jumped in the air, spreading his legs far before landing hard on his feet. He did several somersaults, launching himself and twisting his body in the air, relishing the feel of being suspended for such a short amount of time; feeling the adrenaline that comes from a possibly dangerous move.

Crack! Boom! The sky was screaming out its own despair as Harry moved. 'Don't stop. Keep going. Spin, turn, jump, leap. Don't let the world catch up.' He was gliding now; his body was floating through it all. His legs were on fire and his heart rate was erratic. But he did not care, it kept everything away. Everything bad and ugly.

And then it was over. With another thunderous boom from the sky, Harry's body finally gave out and he fell to the ground. He was on his back, staring up at the ceiling as shadows moved across it. He could make out the sounds of traffic from below him just outside the window. He blinked; sweat was rolling down his face and dripping to the floor while his mind slowly filled with thought again. Thoughts of Hermione, Ron, his uncle, his life…Draco were trickling back in.

His mind was screaming, screaming at him to get up and do something. Fix it, fix it all. But all that came out was a low whimper and entirely too much resistance from his body. He lay there for a few minutes, trying not to think of the uncomfortable-ness of his place on the ground, before another clap of thunder jerked his senses and he sat up. It was rather dark inside, now that the sun's light had been blocked out. He stood up, wincing at the protests from his abused and tired form, and stretched while walking over to the window.

Little droplets of water splattered against the glass of the window as he neared it. His breathing echoed throughout the empty and now silent room. He stood right up to the window and placed his hands on the chilled pane, his hot breath fogging it up. He looked up first; the sky was nothing but a swirling gray mass, and then he looked down. The world outside looked bleak and dark. Cars sped past, people walked to and fro; people talked, laughed, and yelled.

He wasn't sure how long he had been standing there, pressed up against the window; he figured about fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes of staring down at nothing, while thinking of everything. There were the nameless blurs of passing people, all intent on getting somewhere, away from the soon-to-be-thunderstorm. He figured he should start heading home as well if he wanted to beat the downpour. He was just about to turn away from the window when something caught his eye; something that stood out from the rest: a head of light blonde hair amongst the crowd. The figure was slouched and defeated, being jostled by the other seemingly larger forms than that of the frail looking being below.

"Draco," Harry whispered as he pressed himself farther onto the window, trying to get a better look at the boy. His eyes followed him as far as they could. He stood there, staring for an eternity before he snapped to his senses. He felt anger, deep anger licking at his mind while he stood there. 'Catch him before he's gone! Make this right!' His mind was screaming for his feet to move even though he felt rooted to the spot.

'GO!' He didn't know why or how, but he was suddenly sprinting across the room, renewed energy surging through his arms, legs, body; he didn't know where it was coming from but at the moment he did not care. He tore down the stairs two at a time, his mind reeling as his stomach clenched with nerves.

He burst through the doors and into the muggy, thick, humid air. Wind swept past him and people continued on by without glance in the frantic boy's direction. He looked down the direction he had seen Draco walking and he spotted him; still slouched, head bent and arms tucked to his chest. In retrospect, Harry didn't have a clue as to why he did what he did; he didn't know why he didn't just run up to him, get his attention that way. It would have made more sense, attracted less attention, been less embarrassing. Instead, he yelled; he yelled loud and clear, the aching of his heart laced in every bit of his scream.

"DRACO!" he screamed the boy's name, anger evident in his voice. Anger and hurt. He had been hurt by this boy and he was going to let him know it.

Time seemed to have frozen for a mere second; everyone around him stopped in mid-stride, Draco tensed, back still turned, even the sky had stopped thundering for just a moment. And then it was all back; the roaring of traffic in his ears, people bustling past him and the wind picking up speed again. Draco turned around, shock and confusion written on his every feature.

They just stared at each other; Harry couldn't find a way to un-stick his throat and say what he wanted to say. So he just stood there, not caring that his bare feet were turning numb; he glared at the blond, clothes and hair flapping in the wind, eyes blazing like fire.

"I thought I told you to leave me alone," Draco said as he stepped closer, about seven feet away from Harry now.

"You can't just demand someone out of your life, for no reason!" Harry snapped back, finding his voice again. "What did I do? Tell me."

"I got expelled Harry." Harry's heart skipped a beat. He had heard the rumors but he hadn't wanted to believe them.

"And what? You blame me? I was just trying to help you!"

"I don't need your help. I don't need anyone's help."

Harry laughed; it was an empty, hollow, mocking laugh. "That's the thing about you so-called 'thugs'. You think you don't need anybody but yourselves."

"That's because I don't. I don't need you, or that school, or anybody," Draco whispered, his eyes hard and his stance defensive.

"Whether or not you believe it, everyone needs somebody. You can't just wander through life alone; it would be an empty, meaningless existence!"

"And you think you're that someone Harry? Do you think you can change my life? Give me _meaning_ and _friendship_?

"Don't mock me bastard. I wanted to help, yes. And then you push me away without a reason. I was hurt, you fucking bastard."

Draco blinked, his face expressing disbelief. They stared at each other; rain drops began splattering on their faces, causing a chill to spread around them.

"Just go home Harry. Life isn't worth getting hurt over, not anymore. Life just isn't worth anything." And Draco turned around and began walking away. Harry's breath caught in his throat; 'He's walking away. Don't let him walk away. Stop him!'

"Wait!" Draco kept going. "So…so you're just going to walk away? Is that what you do when things don't suit you? You just turn your back on everything that gets just a little bit hard? Why are you such a coward?"

Draco stopped again and Harry could tell he hit a nerve. Before he could open his mouth to speak again, the sky finally opened up on them. Rain thrashed against him, soaking him, causing his clothes to stick to his frame. He could see that Draco was equally as wet.

"Well, aren't you going to say anything?" he yelled over the pounding of the rain against the cement. Little drops of water stuck to his eyelashes before rolling off and onto the ground like tears. He licked his lips, tasting the rain water that clung to them.

"What is there to say, Harry?" Draco said, just loud enough to be heard over the rain. A car drove by, right through a puddle, successfully splashing them both with muddy water. Harry was shivering to the bone but he did not move, did not seek shelter or warmth. He remained standing there, wanting so badly to get to the bottom of this.

"You can say sorry, for starters," Harry gritted out. 'Please say it please let me know that you are sorry. I don't want to hate you.'

"No, Harry."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not sorry. Go away."

"You're lying!" Harry felt angrier than he ever had in his life. There was so much wrong with the way he lived, but he had still managed to remain happy for the most part. But this, this boy, he was able to piss Harry off in ways that he never knew was possible. Make him hurt more than he thought he ever could.

Taking a shaking breath, Harry stomped up to Draco and grabbed his arms; his eyes were flashing dangerously and his grip was hard and bruising.

"Wha-let me go, Harry!" But Harry did not listen. He practically dragged Draco as he moved back toward the dance studio, away from the prying eyes of the passerby, away from the assaulting rain. Draco struggled against his grip, but despite Harry's small size, he was still surprisingly strong and maintained his hold fairly well.

He pushed him up the stairs and into the studio room. And then he did something even he had not expected to do. He punched Draco hard across the cheek, enough to cause Draco's head to snap to the other side. He watched him; he was breathing hard, his fist still clenched, his mind raging and his stomach turning.

Draco looked around at Harry slowly, holding his cheek with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Well, are you going to say anything now?" Harry asked, slightly mocking but mostly angry. When Draco continued to say nothing, Harry punched him again. He shoved him in the chest, causing him to stumble backward. "Say something!" There was something hot and wet sliding down his cheeks now but he didn't process what it was. He was too busy hitting Draco in every spot he could reach, all of his rage, his hurt, his confusion and emotion pouring out of him. His uncle's beatings, Hermione's incessant nagging, Dudley's bullying, his parents' deaths, Draco's indifference; anything and everything he had ever suffered through in the past was now begging to be released in the form of hitting the boy in front of him.

"Bastard!" he yelled as he pushed Draco's soaking and newly bruised form to the floor. He went toppling down with him, landing on top of him, his face inches from the blonds. Their hot breath was caressing each other as he stared down into Draco's stormy gray eyes. Tears were now flowing from his eyes angrily as he glared down at him. Draco merely stared right back up, betraying no emotion.

"Do you feel better, Harry?" he asked quietly. Harry slapped him across the face again; two, three more times, each time he did, his own face was getting closer to the boy's.

"Why do you do this to me?" he asked his lips so dangerously close to the others. He could taste Draco's breath on his, his tears splashing on the pale face below him. "This feeling I get whenever I'm around you. I didn't know what it was at first; but this anger I feel now, I know it has a deeper meaning. Tell me what it is!" Harry nipped at Draco's lips, an invisible force compelling him even closer. "Bastard," he growled against his mouth.

It was nothing like how Harry imagined his first kiss; the movies portray them as soft, sweet, gentle and willing, usually with one of them being a girl. This one was made up of anger, lust, passion, _hate_. Their teeth clanked against each other and Harry bit at Draco's lips like an animal, drawing blood; he shoved his tongue in his mouth, dominating him as he lay motionless on the floor. One hand fisted in his blonde hair while the other scratched at his shoulders, cheeks, arms, chest, anything he could reach.

"Too much emotion, it hurts," he whispered. "Kiss me back, bastard."

Draco stood up abruptly, dumping Harry unceremoniously onto the floor. Harry looked up at him, his eyes narrowed and daring.

"Are you going to walk out again? Are you afraid of me?"

Draco stared down at him, still unreadable as he had been during the kiss, before he grabbed Harry up and shoved him against a nearby wall. He no longer looked frail and defeated; he now looked intimidating and so large compared to Harry. So large and fearsome.

"Is this what you want, huh?" he growled as he brought himself nose to nose with Harry. "You can't just leave me alone, can you?" He gripped Harry's wrists tightly, causing Harry to whimper at the aggravation of his bruises. Draco looked down before shoving his sleeves up. He looked intently at the many bruises marring the pale skin. Harry turned his face away, not wanting to see the disgust that would surely be present.

But Harry was surprised when he smashed his mouth against his and easily took over the situation. His hands held Harry's wrists in a vice-like grip as he continued to shove him against the wall, not caring that his head was being banged around and that stars were beginning to appear in front of his sight. Harry struggled against Draco's larger form, not necessarily to get away, but to cause more friction, more contact, more pain. They stumbled away from the wall toward the center of the room, groping and feeling each other. It was all heat and wetness and passion.

Harry felt in Draco's kisses a sort of desperation; like he wanted to prove to Harry that he wasn't afraid of anything; that he didn't always just walk away. But there was also a hint of something else. Something more that he couldn't quite place his finger on.

And then it was over. Draco broke away from Harry suddenly and shoved him away. Harry stumbled and fell to the ground, falling with a loud "oomph!" He looked up at Draco with confusion.

"Don't go around preaching to me about being a coward, Harry, when you so obviously hide from the world yourself. Those bruises on your wrists; it is obvious life fucks you over just as much as it does me."

Harry watched as Draco turned and began walking out of the room.

"Where are you going?"

"I have to get back to the hospital," Draco told him. Harry wanted to ask why he was going to the hospital, but he felt like he would be prying too much into the boy's life. "Bye, Harry."

Harry watched as he disappeared down the stairs. He continued to sit in his spot on the ground, bringing his fingers up to brush over his lips. They felt bruised and hot. Even though anger had been the most prominent driving force for his first kiss, he still couldn't help but smile.

'Maybe things will turn out okay after all.'

* * *

Author's Note: Too quick? That's the main thing that's been going through my mind. But, it HAD to happen now or it would never happen. For the past couple of days I've been thinking over my plot and I realized if this didn't happen in this chapter, then it wouldn't happen at all. I know that sounds a bit weird, but I couldn't think of another place where their first kiss could have been possible.

That isn't to say they are TOGETHER yet. This was mostly a just in the moment, sudden thing.

Anyway, I wanna apologize for my, you know, lack of updating regularly. You know how that stuff goes.

Thanks for all of your reviews! Keep em coming please :D


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

The incessant beeping that echoed through the tiny room was driving him mad. The white walls with faded blue lining seemed to press in on him as he sat in a cushioned armchair. The bed sheets were starch white with pale green blankets. Her golden hair was limp and splayed behind her on one of the thin pillows. An IV was taped to her right hand and the green hospital gown looked so big on her frail body. Her breathing was even now, but he knew it would only be a matter of minutes before that too would be interrupted with a round of haggard coughing.

Draco pressed his face into his hands and took a long, deep breath. His eyes were itching with tiredness, his stomach was growling with hunger and his whole body was sticky with dirt and sweat. He had hardly eaten, showered or slept in the last week that his mother had been in the hospital. If he wasn't working, he was by her side for as long as he could be. He was already in danger of losing his diner job, having been warned by Mr. Mayberry for his tardiness, as well as his slacking off. He had apologized of course, but he hadn't really cared. He didn't care about anything right now except for his mother's health.

He had been shocked when the doctor first told him about his mother's health condition. He couldn't believe she would keep something like that from him; he had known she was sick, but he had never known with what. Neither she nor the doctor's ever divulged anything to him during her regular checkups.

"_She has chronic leukemia," the doctor told Draco as he stepped out of the hospital room. Draco's face drained of all color and he felt his blood run cold. His throat dried up and it felt as if his stomach just dropped._

"_W-what?" he croaked out._

"_She was officially diagnosed with it five months ago," Dr. Pinter-Brown answered solemnly. "We hadn't started treatment right away, wanting to monitor the cancer's growth to ensure full effectiveness of the treatments. However, when she came in for one of her regular checkups about a month ago, we informed her of the cancer's rapid proliferation. We advised her to start treatment right away but she refused."_

"_What-what does chronic leukemia do?" Draco was still having trouble digesting all of this information. Why hadn't his mother told him about this? Why hadn't she asked for help? He felt angry at her for hiding all of this from him. His fists clenched at his sides and he looked the doctor square in the eye._

"_Chronic leukemia is distinguished by the excessive build up of abnormal blood cells. The cells are produced at a much higher rate than normal cells, which means that there are many abnormal white cells in the blood. While acute leukemia requires immediate treatment due to the rapid progression, chronic leukemia usually takes months or years to spread."_

"_Isn't there anything you can do now? Treatments or anything?"_

"_There are a few ways of treating cancer, none are ensured to be successful. The most common treatment of cancer is chemotherapy."_

"_Can't you do that then? Can't you give her the chemotherapy?"_

"_At this stage of the cancer, it is hard to tell whether or not it would be successful. However, she still refuses to accept any form of treatment."_

_Draco's heart was beating quickly and he felt sick and hot. Why was his mother being so damn stubborn? Didn't she realize that she needs to live? Doesn't she realize that Draco needs her to live?_

"_The most we can do for her now is administering morphine to help with the pain."_

_Draco looked back into the tiny room his mother was currently resting in. He closed his eyes and tried to fight back the stinging of the tears threatening to fall. He opened his slightly blurry eyes and looked back at the doctor. She was standing there in her white lab coat with her hair pulled back neatly, a clipboard in her hand and a grim expression on her face. He felt enraged at her for not being able to fix his mother. Wasn't that her job? To fix people? To make them better? Then why was his mother in the room behind him, dying? _

"_I'm very sorry," she said and offered a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. He just ignored her and waited for her to leave. The sounds of her shoes clicking on the tiled floor signaled her departure and he sighed. He ran a hand through his hair and felt a hot tear roll down his cheek, before he walked back into the room._

That had been a week ago; a week since his mother had collapsed on the floor of their living room, a week since he had finally figured out what she was hiding all this time. It had been a hellish week too. He sat there, worrying over how much longer his mother had; would he walk in the room one day and find out that he was too late? That she had already gone? His stomach clenched at the thought and more tears threatened to fall. So far, his mother was fighting, struggling to hold on. A part of him wished she would just let go though, so her suffering would finally be over.

He sat back in his chair and looked out the window across from him. Dazzling sunlight streamed through it and onto his mother's sleeping form. He could make out the clear blue sky, not a trace of cloud in it. The outside world was peaceful, serene, and indifferent to his suffering. He pressed his lips together and rested his hands on the armrests of the chair. He closed his eyes and tried to focus only on the beating of his own heart. But the continuous sounds of hospital activity dominated his senses. The smell of medicine and floor cleaner, the sounds of people walking, talking, coughing…dying. He hated thinking that there were probably loads of people dying as he sat there, in that very chair, watching his own mother slip away as well.

He swiped some hair away from his face and opened his eyes. His mother still lay motionless; she hadn't moved for almost two days now. He would just sit there and wait, and hope that she would wake up, smile at him, and tell him she's all better. Then they could go home and live happily ever after.

He scoffed at himself for having such a ridiculous fantasy; things didn't happen like that in real life. This was real life and he had to just deal with this all-too-real situation. He averted his eyes from his mother and looked down at his wristwatch. It was almost time for him to get down to the mechanics shop; it was Friday and Dave had called him up earlier, saying he was swamped and needed a hand. Draco had agreed, even though he knew he needed to get down to his diner job as well. He figured that he could work at the auto-repair for a few hours, giving himself just fifteen or so minutes to dash down to the diner and make his shift there. It was almost lucky that he no longer had school to take up half his day.

Draco stood up from his seat, stretching out his limbs and yawning slightly. He knew he really needed at least a few hours sleep to run normally, but these days, a few hours of personal time was hard to come by. He knew he could just simply come to the hospital less, but he refused to see that as an option.

Walking over to his mother silently, he bent over and pressed his hand to her warm cheek. He placed a feather-light kiss on her other cheek, and whispered a promise to return soon in her ear. He was sure she couldn't hear him, but he felt the need to do it nonetheless.

With a bit of regret, he turned away from the prone figure and walked out of the room. His footsteps echoed off the hallways, along with the sound of his own heartbeat. He kept his eyes fixed on his scruffy shoes, not making eye contact with anyone. He felt a sort of relief once he stepped out of the suffocating hospital and into the open November air. Breathing deeply through his nose and then out his mouth, he suddenly felt much calmer. Maybe being in the hospital had a lot to do with the tension and panic he often felt.

Draco had walked the same street so many times on his way to the auto-shop that he didn't need to think about where he was going anymore. It was as if his feet had been trained to find their way on their own. Before he knew it, he was in front of the old shop, looking up at the old rusted sign that read 'Bob's Auto Repair'.

'Same old job, same old life,' he thought in self-pity. He walked up to the front door and opened it; the sounds of the shop bells caught the attention of the elderly man at the front counter.

"Ah, Draco, pleased you could make it on such short notice," Roger said as he stood up on shaking legs. "Would you mind watching the front counter for a bit?"

"Yes, sir," Draco nodded and took Roger's place once the man left the room. He plopped himself down on the vacated chair and stared out the entrance to the shop. He rested his chin in his palm and chewed on his tongue out of boredom.

'Dave said the place was swamped,' Draco thought, looking around at the desolate little room. 'It's deserted in here.'

The ticking of the clock was the only thing that signified that any time was passing at all. It was hot in the little office and the air smelled musty and thick. The chair was uncomfortable too; Draco decided to lean back and prop his feet up on the counter in front of him, hoping to get more comfortable. He made little paper airplanes out of a few scrap pieces of paper and threw them around the room. When he used up the last bit of paper, he just sighed and let his arms fall limp. He stared up at the ceiling, watching the fan move around at a slow pace.

Bob the cat hopped up onto the counter gracefully and walked around, occasionally rubbing itself up on Draco's feet. Draco tried to shoo it away by kicking at it, but it was as stubborn as always and just stared at him with is large yellow eyes. Opting on ignoring the feline, Draco continued his staring, occasionally tuning in on the low country music emitting from the old radio.

It must have been an eternity, at least in Draco's mind, by time the sounds of door opening and closing broke him out of his ceiling-fan-induced trance. He looked between his feet at the intruder and couldn't help but let out an almost inaudible groan at who it was.

"Draco!" Ron Weasley said as he set his blue eyes on him. The tall red-head was standing there, looking entirely too noticeable with his hand-made maroon jumper, ripped jeans and goofy, freckled face. He noticed a pair of earphones around the kid's neck, as well as a walkman attached at his hip; the sound of music was just audible coming from his headphones.

"Hey," Draco said as he dropped his feet from the counter and stood up. He wiped his hands free of collected dust and brought out a clipboard from one of the drawers before turning back to the boy. "What can I do you for?"

"I didn't know you worked here," Ron continued as he walked around the small office, looking up at grimy old portraits and flipping through a few torn magazines. He turned to Draco and grinned at him, "Get much action here?"

"What are you on about Weasley?" Draco ground out. "And yes, I do work here."

"All I meant was do you meet plenty of girls here? I mean, this place doesn't exactly look like a chick magnet."

"I don't come to work to pick up girls," Draco said with some exasperation. "Now can you get on with why you're here?"

"Is this how you treat all your customers?" Ron plopped down on one of the plastic chairs by the door and looked out the window facing the garage.

"Just the ones who waste my time and don't bloody tell me why they're here."

"A bit testy today?" Ron said, his lips suddenly forming into a frown. "Everything alright, mate?"

"I'm fine," Draco snapped out. He closed his eyes and forced himself to calm down. It wasn't the idiots fault after all. When he opened his eyes again, he felt a bit calmer and more composed. "Really. So, how may I help you today?"

"My battery died out," Ron informed him in a rush, as if compensating for wasting so much of his time already. "It needs a new one."

'That's not all it needs,' Draco thought as he remembered his near-death experience in that rusted old tin pot. Instead of voicing his thoughts, he wrote it down on the order sheet.

"That could take a day or so; we have to order the part first and replace it," he told him as he wrote up a receipt. He handed it to the red-head. "Just leave the car here and come back in about a day. Give that receipt to whoever is here and they should be able to handle it."

"Thanks," Ron said, taking the receipt. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight on his feet a bit awkwardly. "So, um, have you talked to Harry lately?"

"Not…really," Draco said, thinking back to when he and Harry had shared a kiss a week ago. He hadn't seen the boy since then, and hadn't really thought much on it considering the other things going on in his life.

"Oh, well it's just he's been acting really strange and Hermione and I are kinda confused about it," Ron said as he ran a finger over the dusty counter, leaving a streak across it. "I was thinking maybe you knew something."

"Why would I know anything?"

"Well, because you two are friends right? Maybe he tells you things."

"He hasn't spoken to me in about a week."

"Oh. So you don't know anything?"

Draco let the question hang in the air for a few moments. He thought back to the bruises on the boy's wrists, and had the faintest feeling that his wrists weren't the only place those bruises were. He had an idea as to how those bruises came to be, but Draco didn't want to jump to conclusions. It seemed that Harry wanted that to be secret however, so he decided against saying anything. At least for now.

"No. Have you asked him yourself?"

"Well yeah, but he just kinda dodges our questions."

"Maybe he's just going through something personal."

"Yeah. Maybe. Well, anyway, thanks Draco, I'll see you around." Ron waved the hand he held the receipt in and then walked out of the little shop.

Draco leaned his elbows on the counter and cupped his face in his palms as he watched the boy walk away. Everything fell silent once again and he returned to the stupor he had previously been in, absentmindedly scratching Bob the cat behind the ears.

---

Draco yawned as he pulled his jacket on two hours later. After the slow first half-hour, things had started to pick up at the shop. Dave had kept him busy with dealing with customers, cleaning tools and keeping everything in order. By the time things died down again, Draco's fatigue had increased tenfold. He rubbed his eyes with his hands, trying to get the tiredness out of them before he made his way away from the auto-repair. He had about another hour before his shift at the diner started, but it wasn't like he had anywhere else to go. So he decided to go ahead and start walking down there anyway.

The city streets were full of life despite the chilliness. He figured it had something to do with the fact that the sun was out for the first time in days. Cars honking met his ears and the smell of baking bread from a nearby bakery wafted around him. His stomach rumbled again at the thought of food; a few passerbies glanced down at him curiously whenever his stomach gave a particularly loud growl. He attempted to stifle the sound as he hurried on.

He slowed down when he came to one of the local parks. It was a bit bigger than the other ones; it had plenty of trees, green grass and a pond that usually harbored ducks, waiting to be fed pieces of bread. He stepped onto the grass, which was a relief from having to walk on the hard cement so much.

He jammed his hands into his pockets and walked across the park. Young children were playing with their pets or friends, adults were sitting on benches and chatting with one another and a few couples were walking hand in hand. A picture-perfect scene – it seemed so out of place with the rest of the city.

"Do you come here often?" a familiar voice asked from beside him. Draco turned and saw the Granger girl who was always hanging around with Harry and the Weasley.

'Two out of three,' he thought with a bit of humor, having met with Ron and Hermione on the same day, in two completely different places. He almost expected Harry to jump out from behind a tree any moment now.

"Not really, I'm just passing through on my way to work," he said as he looked the girl over. She was wearing a zipped up coat over a pair of dark blue jeans. Her bushy hair framed her rosy cheeks and her lips were a bit red from the cold. Her brown eyes were focused on him intently, as if she was trying to read something from him.

"Oh. Well, I come here when I want to think; clear my head a little…you know."

"Hm." There was a few minutes of tense, awkward silence. Draco watched as a beetle crawled its way up the bark of a tree.

"Hey, um, you haven't talked to - ?" Hermione started.

"I haven't seen Harry since last week." She gave him an odd, confused look. "I talked with Ron about two hours ago."

"Really?" she looked surprised at that. "I see."

"What was Ron talking about anyway? What's wrong with Harry?" Draco decided that he was just curious; it wasn't that he actually cared. It was now that he finally started thinking on that kiss that he had shared with Harry; it had been odd, fierce and definitely not romantic. At first, he had been angry that the boy had the audacity to kiss him; but something inside of him felt the need to return it. It had added more confusion to his already hectic life.

"He's just acting very strange; like he's keeping something from us. He's been very to himself lately, like he doesn't want to be around me or Ron. We've been trying to get him to talk to us, but he just keeps dodging around our questions."

"Ever consider that maybe he just doesn't want you to know? Maybe you're just pushing him away with all of your nosy questions." Draco briefly wondered if Harry had told Hermione about the kiss. On second thought, he probably hadn't.

"But I'm his friend! He should talk to m-"

"If it's something important, he'll tell you in his own time. Forcing it out of him will only make things worse. You should respect his privacy."

"I do respect his…" Hermione started indignantly. Draco just held up his hands in surrender. He didn't want to start an argument about this. Not when he needed to get to work.

"Just saying, that's all. Well, I gotta get to the diner before my boss fires me."

"Oh, okay. See you around Draco." Draco nodded and left Hermione standing there by the pond. He sighed heavily, feeling relieved at getting out of that conversation. The girl was uncomfortable to be around; she obviously didn't realize how nosy she could be. He sort of felt sorry for Ron and Harry now. Sort of.

---

"You're late, Mr. Malfoy," Mr. Mayberry said as Draco dashed in. Draco looked up at the clock.

"Only five minutes," he replied as he pulled on his apron.

"That's five minutes of wasted time, get in that kitchen."

"Yes, sir." Draco walked through the back door and into the steamy, smoky kitchen. It hadn't been his fault that he was late; well okay, maybe it was. He had taken a wrong turn and hadn't realized it until about ten minutes later. He had run the whole way there in hopes of making it on time. It was quite unlucky that there was so many people walking around this time of day; he had had a time of it trying to dodge around them all. He even almost got flattened by an ambulance.

"Late again, mate," one of the cooks, Eddie Elroy, said as he flipped a burger on the fryer. It sizzled and smoked and the smell of it made Draco rather ill.

"Yeah, yeah," Draco mumbled as he grabbed a broom and began sweeping up spilled rice, vegetables and flour around the floor.

"Can you hand me that seasoning," Eddie asked as he nodded to the bottle on the counter by Draco. Draco nodded and tossed it to him. Eddie caught it with one hand and began sprinkling it on the burgers. "So why were you late this time?"

"Just bad luck." Draco swept the pile up in a dustpan and then emptied it in a rubbish bin.

"Coming through!" one of the other cooks said as he dodged around Draco with a large pan in his hand.

"Hey, watch it with that, Andy!" Eddie called as the man swerved around him and nearly bumped into him. "Should have never allowed that man near a kitchen, let alone in one. Accident prone," he shook his head and placed the hamburger meat onto buns and added the pre-sliced onions, tomatoes, lettuce and pickles.

"Order up!" he called as he placed the hamburgers and fries on the service counter. "So anyway, what's been happening with you lately, Draco?" Eddie wiped his hands on his apron. Draco was about to open his mouth but was interrupted by the kitchen door opening.

"We need two orders of fish and chips, Eddie!" one of the waitresses called as she brought in the order ticket. "Hey Draco," she winked at him before going back out.

"You have an admirer," Eddie grinned as he started skinning a piece of cod fillet.

"Shut it," Draco growled as he washed a couple of bowls and plates for Eddie. His shirt sleeves were soaked through with warm water and suds and his hands were beginning to get pruned. When he was finished, he handed a clean bowl to Eddie, who began stirring flour and salt together in it. When he was finished adding the water and turning the ingredients into a batter, he let it sit on the counter and began cutting up potatoes. Draco liked watching Eddie work; he was one of the best cooks there and could do almost anything without any help. He was quick, efficient, and good.

When he was finished with the potatoes, he set them aside for a moment and began seasoning the pieces of fish with salt and ground pepper. He stirred the batter a couple of times and began dipping the pieces of fish in them and placing them in the oil on the fryer. He did this all very quickly; Draco never ceased to be amazed at how quickly Eddie could move. He wondered where Eddie learned to cook so well; the man was only 24 and hadn't worked in many other places than the diner.

"You wanna cut up that lemon over there into wedges for me?" Eddies asked, noticing that Draco was just standing there, doing nothing. Draco nodded and walked over to the cutting board while Eddie lowered his potato strips into the deep fryer. Draco grabbed one of the knives and sliced the lemon carefully into several wedges. When he was finished, he pushed them to the side and turned to watch Eddie. He was already carefully arranging the fish and chips onto the plate; he waved for Draco to bring over the lemon, after which, he added to plate as well.

"Order up!" he called again before turning back to Draco. "And you never answered my question."

"What question?"

"My question about how things are with you."

"What do you care?"

"Maybe I don't care. Maybe I'm just making conversation," Eddie grinned, his dark brown eyes shining. A bit of his honey-blonde hair fell into his face, giving off an overall younger appearance.

"Right," Draco replied as he wiped off one of the counters of spilled tomato sauce and oil.

"Malfoy! You're needed at the loading docks!" Mr. Mayberry called through the door. Draco rolled his eyes and set his rag down.

"The ogre calls," he said and waved off Eddie.

"You're not getting off that easy!" Eddie yelled to his back as Draco headed toward the back door. "I'll get my answer sooner or later!"

"Yeah, yeah." Draco pushed the door open and walked over to the piles and piles of boxes waiting for him.

---

It was nearing dusk when Draco finished up for the day. He was just finishing up with the last of the dishes and cleaning up the counters when Eddie bade him goodnight.

"See you around, Draco," Eddie said as he waved goodbye. Draco waved back and took off his apron, ready to leave for the night.

"Mr. Malfoy," Mr. Mayberry said as he walked over to Draco. Draco looked up at him. "May I speak with you?"

"Yes, sir," Draco said warily, wondering what the man wanted. He felt a bit nervous.

"I just wanted to speak with you about your frequent tardiness. As the manager of this place, it is my duty to make sure we have the best staff available. It could cost us if you continue on with this pattern."

"I know, sir, and I'm very sorry. I'm trying my hardest, really."

"But you are not trying hard enough."

"Then I'll try harder, I swear." Mr. Mayberry looked Draco in the face and studied him for a few moments. He seemed to be trying to read the sincerity in the boy's eyes.

"Alright, you get one more shot. But if it happens again…"

"I know, and I promise it won't."

"Okay then. Off you go. I'll see you on Monday."

"Thank you, sir." Draco walked past the man and out the door, not believing his luck. He was sure he was done for that time.

He fumbled for a cigarette from his pocket as he stepped outside, preparing for the walk home. It was about then that he felt several presences behind him. He placed the cigarette in his mouth and lit it, before turning around.

"Blaise," he said. "What do you want?"

"We want to know why you've been avoiding us, Draco," Blaise said as he stepped closer; Crabbe, Goyle and Nott stepped out from the shadows behind him.

"Haven't you gotten it through your heads yet?" Draco said as he blew out a puff of smoke. "I'm through with you guys. I'm through with your games, your activities, and your _money."_

"You can't just quit, just like that," Blaise said in a low growl.

"Oh yeah? Watch me."

"Is it because of those kids you've been hanging around with, when you should have been with us?"

Draco froze for a moment before bringing the cigarette up to his lips again.

"What kids?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

"You know who we're talking about. That little black-haired boy we've seen you around with. Say, wasn't he the reason you were _expelled_?"

"How did you…?"

"We have eyes and ears Draco, things get around."

"What concern is it to you, anyway?"

"It's obvious something's gotten into you," Blaise said as he walked even closer. "And I don't like it."

"It doesn't matter what you like, it's my life," Draco said, suddenly fierce. "So stay the fuck out of it."

Blaise narrowed his eyes and shoved Draco up against the brick wall of the diner. He fisted his hands in Draco's jacket and brought his face inches from his.

"You better watch your back, Draco." Blaise brought out his switchblade and opened it up. "You no longer have anyone to protect you."

"I don't need your protection," Draco spat as he pressed his cigarette to Blaise's arm and shoved the boy off of him. Blaise howled in pain and stumbled backwards. The blade, which had been dangerously close to Draco's face in the first place, pierced his skin. He hissed as warm blood oozed from the cut across his cheek. Suddenly the area was filled with bright light as the door to the diner opened. A man's shadow appeared in the doorway.

"What's going on out here?" Mr. Mayberry's gruff voice cut through the silence. "Draco, who are these guys?"

"No one, Mr. Mayberry," Draco said, keeping his eyes locked on Blaise's. "They were just leaving."

"Don't think that this is over," Blaise whispered so low that even Draco barely heard it.

"Right, whatever," Draco said, dismissing them. Blaise looked enraged at this but obviously decided not to try anything more with another person present. He nodded his head to the others and they hurried off down a dark alley.

"You alright, Draco?" Mr. Mayberry asked as he walked from the doorway and up to Draco. His eyes were darting from between him and the place the other's had disappeared to.

"Yeah, fine."

"You sure?"

"Yes…really," he said, trying to assuage the man's suspicions. "I need to go home now."

"Alright," Mr. Mayberry nodded, but continued to watch Draco until he disappeared around a corner. Draco let out a frustrated sigh. It was late; he had wanted to visit his mother before it got too dark, but he was sure visiting hours were over now.

All the way home, Blaise's last words echoed throughout his mind. He tried not to think on it too much; surely it was just an empty threat.

* * *

Author's Note: Gotta love these filler chapters :P Seriously, you guys waited like what? Two weeks and I give you THIS. Too bad it had to happen. Don't hate me too much.

Anyway, thanks for 200 reviews!! You guys ROCK. Special dedication to **DeathNote-Dancer89** for being the 200th review :D Thank you!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Review please!


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

The music was soft and a bit melancholic; it soothed his aching heart and relaxed his mind. The singer's melodic voice was filled with much heartache and it was easy to tell that he had been hurt at some point in his life. It comforted him, knowing that he wasn't the only one in the world suffering; other people, people that he didn't even know, were sharing his pain as well.

He was on his back, laying spread on the living room floor. There was no one home, so he could just stay there all day, uninterrupted. The thin carpet did not protect his back from the hardness of the floor, but he did not mind. He just wanted to lie there forever, listening to music and not having to worry about anything. He often found himself doing this whenever he found things becoming a bit too much. When the world got too heavy on his shoulders, he would lie down and stare up at the ceiling. Just like he was doing now.

Harry's eyes were open, staring up at the ceiling and counting the little bumps on it. His arms and legs were splayed open, leaving him feeling somewhat vulnerable but relaxed. The music thudded softly from the speakers of the radio by his head, offering the only company available to him. Closing his eyes and letting the music fill him up, he tried to imagine what music would look like if it had a physical form. At first, nothing came; all he could see was the darkness of his eyelids. But after awhile, slow moving, wispy tendrils of blue and dark colours swirled around his mind. He figured because of the song's sad nature, it appeared as dark and slow to him.

He slowly opened his eyes as the song came to an end and rolled over to his side. Reaching out a hand, he twiddled with the dial for a few moments before settling on another station. This time the song was more upbeat; the rhythm vibrated in his ears, cheerful and fast. It appeared more as a fast paced splash of vibrant colours. It was perfect for uplifting a hurt spirit.

Harry had been brooding, angsting, and mulling over the whole ordeal from the dance studio for the past week. He couldn't quite figure out how he felt about it; he did, after all, initiate the whole thing. But thinking back on it, he felt a bit embarrassed by being so brash. And the fact that Draco was a boy just added to the whole thing. He wasn't particularly knowledgeable on the whole relationship deal, but he was pretty sure that boy kisses girl, not boy kisses boy.

He had been avoiding Ron and Hermione as best he could, in hopes of keeping the whole thing secret from them. He was pretty sure Hermione could sniff out a lie from a mile away, so he opted for just not saying anything at all. They were both getting pretty suspicious; it was so terribly obvious that something was up with him. He just hoped they wouldn't guess what it was any time soon. At least not until he himself figured out where he stood on the whole thing.

He also decided not to get in on the whole "What Must Draco Think" thing because he knew that if he did, his head would explode. It was all so confusing! The only thing that comforted him and kept him from thinking that Draco hated his guts was that _he had kissed back._ That was the most mind-boggling bit of the whole situation. Did that mean the boy had feelings for him?

'It was probably just an in-the-moment, display of control thing,' Harry thought as he rolled onto his stomach and stared at the little old radio on the floor. He swung his legs back and forth and drew patterns in the carpet. He didn't want to have to think about these things, but shutting off ones own brain is a difficult thing to accomplish.

Pressing his face down on the carpet and closing his eyes, he inhaled the smell of the old material as his stomach rumbled against it. Avoiding Hermione meant spending more time at his uncle's. And spending more time at his uncle's meant less eating. He was now starting to feel the fatigue of not eating and sleeping enough. He was used to it, sure, but that didn't make the suffering any less.

Sighing, he reached his hand down his shirt and pulled out the delicate little angel. He rubbed it between his fingers and tried to clear his mind.

'Mum, would you know what to do? If you were here, would you help me? Or would you just be angry with me.' That thought made his heart clench a bit but he tried not to think of his mother that way. She must have been a good woman; she would've helped him as much as she could.

The sound of the door slamming open and heavy footsteps entering the house caused him to jerk upright. He quickly stuffed the chain back into his shirt and scrambled to his feet. He hurriedly turned off the radio and set it back in its rightful place.

"BOY!" his uncle's booming voice echoed throughout the tiny house. It caused everything inside of Harry to shake with fear. His uncle sounded drunk and angry; this never fared well for him. He stood frozen to the spot and waited for his uncle to make an appearance.

"WHERE ARE YOU?" again, the sound of his uncle's roars made Harry gulp nervously.

"I-in here, Uncle," Harry called, his voice breaking a bit. 'Please, please don't let him hurt me. The last bruises are barely starting to fade.'

"There you are," his uncle growled as he entered the small sitting room. He set his small, angry eyes on the boy, and they glinted with something unpleasant. "You filthy freak; why are you here!"

"I-I live here, Uncle," Harry answered logically. This was a mistake, as it seemed to enrage his drunken uncle even further.

"Don't get cheeky with me, boy," his uncle said and hiccupped as his unfocused eyes traveled around the room. "Why is this place a mess? What have you done?" His face was getting redder and redder by the second and the vein in his forehead was throbbing angrily.

"Nothing, honestly," Harry backed up a bit. His uncle must not have remembered the rage he had had went through the previous day. He had trashed the place; Harry had tried his best to clean up most of it, but it was a large job that couldn't have been completed in one day.

"Liar!" His uncle advanced on him menacingly. "I'll teach you to make a mess, boy. Get over here."

Harry shook his head and backed up even further. His eyes were wide with fear and his heart was twanging with nervousness. 'Not again. No, not again.'

"Don't you say no to me. GET OVER HERE," his uncle made a lunge for him, one that Harry just barely dodged. Vernon went crashing into the television set, causing it to crash and fall to the floor. Harry looked in shock at the blood dripping down his uncle's face from the newly made cut on his eyebrow. He was in for it now.

His uncle got back to his feet and grabbed at him again. He caught Harry by the arm and dragged him closer. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, only a moment before the pain hit. He tried to keep from crying out as the meaty hand slapped him across the face. The stinging pain caused tears to spring to his eyes and a small whimper to escape his lips.

"Stupid, useless boy!" Uncle Vernon said as he flung Harry to the floor. Harry landed on his side painfully, the floor connecting with his ribs. He coughed and rolled over to onto his stomach. He got up on his hands and knees shakily, trying not to let the burning tears fall from his eyes.

"What is that?" his uncle's voice suddenly became dangerous. Harry was too busy trying to refocus his eyes and get back up to his feet that he barely noticed his uncle's quick, thunderous footsteps until the man, once again, hauled him up by his arm. "Answer me!"

"What, u-uncle?" Harry asked in a cracking voice.

"THIS!" And suddenly, his hand came towards Harry's throat. Harry closed his eyes, expecting another hit, but what happened instead was the chain around his neck was forcefully yanked away from his neck. His eyes snapped open and he watched in shock as the tiny angel was being studied by his uncle. "What is this?" He shook Harry and waved the necklace. "Well?"

"I-it's nothing, really," Harry answered, afraid his uncle was going to destroy the only thing he had left of his mother. He had kept it hidden all these years because he had always been so sure his uncle would take it away. He bit his bottom lip in anxiousness; he must not have hid it well enough when Vernon came in. It must have fallen out of his shirt when he was being thrown around.

"Don't lie to me!" his uncle yelled as he threw Harry to the ground again. "It's…it's that girl's! She used to wear it all the time." His uncle's eyes were enraged and psychotic. He pocketed the necklace and turned to walk from the room once again. "I'll see to it that it's destroyed. I will not have any of that woman's stuff in my house!"

"NO!" Harry screamed. He scrambled to his feet and stumbled after his uncle. He grabbed onto the man's large arm and started pulling on it, trying to get at the necklace. "Please, no! It's all I have left! Please!" Harry was scratching at his uncle's arm, tears forming in his eyes and falling down his bruised cheeks. 'Beat me, hit me, yell at me, starve me, but please don't take away my only possession that means something to me!' He wanted to scream that, beg to his uncle to have mercy, but no words formed. And his uncle was not one to show mercy.

"GET AWAY!" Uncle Vernon roared as he forced Harry away. Harry's back thudded on the hard floor once again and he looked up at his uncle. Vernon gave Harry a sharp kick to the ribs; he moaned in pain and tried to roll away from his uncle's large foot. "GO AWAY! GET OUT! NOW!"

Harry's eyes widened at his uncle's madness. The man picked up a nearby lamp and threw it at Harry's head. Harry was just able to roll away in time as it came crashing down near him. Shards of the light bulb embedded themselves in his flesh, but he paid that no mind. His uncle was still in the process of overturning furniture in another rage, picking up anything close by and hurling it at Harry and yelling and screaming incoherent things.

"GO! GET OUT! LEAVE ME ALONE!" his uncle screamed as he threw the lamp table at him. It broke into pieces as it flew against the wall. That jump-started Harry and he ran from the room, too frightened to stop and look back. He blindly made his way to his room, occasionally bumping and crashing into the walls. He fumbled with the doorknob of his bedroom, wrenched open the door and ran inside. He slammed the door closed and froze. He stood there with his palms resting on the wood of the door, his eyes still wide and his breath still ragged.

He closed his eyes as the sounds of his uncle's screaming could still be heard from the living room. The sounds of the house being destroyed echoed through the whole house, and possibly the entire neighbourhood. He slid down to his knees, his palms still on the door as he leaned his head forward, resting it on the door as well. He wanted to scream out; let the world know of his anguish, but instead he remained silent, trying to squeeze back his tears.

'I can't believe that just happened,' he thought. He felt around his neck and chest, hoping maybe that it didn't really happen at all. But when he felt nothing but the warmth of his own skin, he knew that it had been true. He sighed and stood up, wiping the tears away from his cheeks. He winced as the pain came back to him; he lifted up his shirt and saw a bruise already forming on his ribs. It was just another one to add to the collection. He pulled his shirt back down and decided to just ignore it for now. It was the least of the worries on his mind. He crawled on his tiny mattress on the floor and huddled up in a corner. His back was pressed against the wall and his knees were drawn up to his chest. He stared out the window absently, his hand every once in awhile coming up this neck, looking for his mother's necklace, but finding nothing.

----

"Harry! Glad you came!" Hermione said cheerfully as she opened the door, a wide grin on her face. Harry blinked a couple of times at Hermione's obvious excitement. "Come inside." She ushered him into the house and closed the door behind them.

"What's going on, Hermione?" Harry asked, with a bit of trepidation. Hermione's excitement could often lead to pain on Harry's part. It was about then that he noticed the absence of any other people in the house. Usually at least Mrs. Granger was home; but today, the house seemed fairly vacant. "Where are Mr. and Mrs. Granger?"

"They're out!" Hermione proclaimed as she dragged him into the living room. "It's my dad's birthday; mum and some friends took him out for a birthday lunch, so they could be gone for hours."

"I forgot!" Harry said as he was forced into the kitchen. Out of everything else that had happened that day, he had completely forgotten that it was Mr. Granger's birthday.

"No time to dwell on that!" Hermione said as she pulled out several large bowls, spoons and pans from the cupboards. "We need to start dad's birthday surprise!"

"Huh?"

"We're going to make him a cake! Usually, we never have cake on his birthday because he's always so worried about what the sugar would do to his teeth, but this year he won't have a choice if we do it as a surprise! Besides, I know he'll love it."

"Do you even know how to make a cake, Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Of course!" she replied as she pulled out a large cookbook. "All of the instructions are in here. All we have to do is follow these simple steps, and voila, a perfect birthday cake."

"Okay…so where do we start?"

"Well we can't start yet; we don't have all the right ingredients."

"And how do you propose we get them? The market is miles away; we'll never get there and back on time."

"Which is why…we drive!"

"Say what?"

"We'll drive there, of course."

"Hermione, we don't have a car!"

"Yes we do. We have my dad's car. My mum's friends drove them, so he left the car behind. The keys are on the hook by the door."

"Won't your dad be angry if he finds out?"

"He won't find out."

"I dunno about this, Hermione."

"Oh stop being a baby, let's go!" She grabbed Harry's wrists and, once again, dragged him out of the kitchen, through the living room, and into the foyer. She grabbed the car keys from the hook and pushed him through the front door.

"We better hurry though," she said as they trotted down the steps. Harry walked up to the car, a foreboding feeling in his stomach. He knew they shouldn't be doing this; but it wasn't easy to change Hermione's mind once she's already had it made up. Hermione opened up the passenger side door for Harry with a grin on her face. Harry rolled his eyes and worked up enough nerve to get into the car.

He settled himself into the seat as Hermione slid into the driver's side.

"Okay," she said with a deep breath and placed one hand on the wheel while the other one worked on getting the key into the ignition. A thought suddenly crossed Harry's mind.

"Erm… Hermione…do you even know how to drive?"

"Don't worry about that. I read the driver's handbook. It should be a piece of cake." She gave him a confident look as the engine spurred to life; the rumbling of Harry's seat underneath him caused his nerves to increase tenfold. He quickly buckled his seatbelt at Hermione's statement.

And suddenly, they were off. Hermione jerkily pulled onto the street before pressing onto the gas, hard. The sudden speed of the car caused Harry to slide a little bit; he felt sure they were going to die. He grabbed onto the dashboard fearfully as Hermione concentrated on the road. She had forgotten to signal as she switched over into another lane; cars were honking angrily behind them as they almost caused a collision.

"Hermione! Slow down! You're going to kill us."

"I am not," Hermione snapped. "Stop fretting."

"I'm not fretting," Harry responded as his grip on the dashboard tightened until his knuckles turned white. "I'm fearing for our lives." Hermione made a sharp turn, which made Harry slam into his door painfully. His already bruised ribs were being subjected to even more abuse because of Hermione's lack of driving skills.

"Hermione! Mind that traffic light!" Harry warned, noticing that Hermione looked about ready to run a red light. She quickly stomped on the brakes, but quite unluckily she forgot to take her foot of the gas pedal and instead of coming to a stop, they ran the light and stalled right in the middle of the intersection. This upset quite a few people.

"Sorry!" Hermione called as she waved out the window; everyone was honking at them angrily and yelling (quite obscenely) that they needed to move. Harry sunk down in his seat, intent on just disappearing into the floorboard. She worked quickly on starting the engine again and switching the gears. The car groaned a few times as she had trouble switching to first gear but eventually she got it and they were moving again. Harry looked behind him through the rear window and rolled his eyes.

"Don't give me that look," Hermione said as she switched to second gear and then third. "This is my first time, after all."

"But you said you knew how to drive!"

"I thought it would be easy," she said with a shrug as they pulled into the shop parking lot.

"You thought wrong," Harry mumbled, but Hermione didn't hear him as she was looking around for a parking spot.

"There's one," Harry pointed as a car just vacated a spot. Hermione swiftly pulled into it; Harry once again slid across his seat and slammed into the door. Hermione parked the car and turned off the engine.

"See, that wasn't so bad."

"Yeah. Sure. Blimey, I think you broke one of my ribs," Harry commented, shutting the door as they stepped out. He rubbed on his side as he gave Hermione a death glare. "I'm having Ron give you driving lessons; no arguing about it."

"What! Harry, honestly, I don't think that's necessary."

"Oh, yeah? Were we even in the same car?" Hermione just rolled her eyes and muttered something about Harry being a big baby and complaining too much. They grabbed one of the shopping carts and wheeled it through the electric doors of the market.

"Let's see, first on the list was…" she seemed to be searching her brain for the first item they needed.

"You mean, you didn't write it down?" Harry asked.

"No, I don't need to. I have the memory of an elephant."

"An…elephant?"

"Yeah, you know; they have really great memories," Hermione said, waving that off. "Oh, yeah! Flour! Come on." She raced down the aisles with the cart, Harry closely in tow. They went down the baking aisle and grabbed a small bag of flour and hauled it into the cart.

"Next…sugar!" She looked up and down the aisle, "aha! There it is. Go get it Harry." Harry hurried and grabbed one of the bags and placed it in the cart with the flour. They went through Hermione's mental checklist, occasionally having to hurry down other aisles. Whenever something was on a top shelf, Hermione made Harry get it despite her being taller than him. This usually meant Harry had to climb up the shelf and reach for the item. They got salt, frosting, candles, and oil. Apparently, the Granger's had been meaning to go shopping for awhile and were out of most of these ingredients.

The last thing they needed was eggs and milk, both of which would be in the dairy aisle. They raced with their half-full shopping cart, dodging around people and skidding around corners. A few times they almost crashed into an elderly couple and a mother with her child. It was the consequences of being in such a rush. Harry grabbed a quart of milk while Hermione went to snatch the eggs. When they placed those in the cart, they hurried off to the check-out center.

"I sure hope mum and dad don't decide to come home early," Hermione said as they stopped behind a man with a basket full of alcohol and meat.

"How are we going to pay for this?" Harry asked, motioning toward their cart full of baking items.

"Mum and dad always keep a jar of money underneath the sink, in case of emergencies. And since this classifies as an emergency, I just grabbed a few bills. It's no big deal; they'll never notice."

"So…first, we steal your dad's car, violating several traffic laws in the process…and now you're telling me you stole money as well? How much more rule-breaking are we going to do today, Hermione?"

"It's not stealing! Just…borrowing, honestly."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Harry said as he unloaded items onto the checkout counter. As the cashier rung them up, Harry let his mind slip away for a bit. He continuously felt a sort of absence within himself and he knew that was because of his mother's necklace. It had sort of become a part of him over the years, and now that part of him was gone. It was a constant aching within himself and he hated it.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he looked up at her. He shook his head and cleared away the fog that was surrounding his mind.

"Yeah?"

"Are you ready to go?" she asked, looking a bit concerned.

"Oh, yeah," he nodded in assurance. They wheeled their purchases out of the shop and into the parking lot. Hermione unlocked the car when they got to it.

"Start unloading those into the boot," Hermione said. Harry did as he was told and began lifting things into the boot of the car. It was a bit of a job considering every time he bent over, a nagging pain shot up and down his body. This caused him to move slower than normal.

"You almost finished?" Hermione asked as Harry unloaded the last bit into the car. He was sorely tempted to say something along the lines of her getting off her ass and helping, but he decided to bite his tongue instead.

"Yeah," he said as he closed the back of the car and walked around to the passenger side.

"Ready to go, then?"

"Yep." He buckled his belt (tightly this time) and prepared for the drive back. The ride home was almost uneventful; it seemed Hermione was getting the hang of the whole driving thing, even though she still had trouble with stopping correctly. Harry was staring out the window with his hand propping his chin up. He watched the scenery roll by in a blur of dull colors; he almost felt as if he was about to doze off when something caught his attention. It was a group of boys surrounding another boy as they beat him to the ground…a boy with light blond hair.

"Hermione, stop the car!" Harry commanded. Hermione abruptly came to a stop and Harry dashed out the door without telling Hermione what he was doing. He ran across the street, skirting around other cars as they zoomed past.

"HEY!" he yelled as he came closer to the group of boys. The closer he got, the more sure he was that the boy being beaten up was Draco. He could recognize him from anywhere now. "Stop that!"

The boys looked up at him as he came closer. Draco, who was on the ground, looked up as well; shock was clearly written on his face. Harry could tell he was in bad shape; his lip was busted and blood was pouring from his nose. His cheeks were scratched and bruised and his hair was messed up as if someone had been yanking on it.

"Who the fuck are you?" one of the boys asked; he was a little taller than Harry, with dark skin. His voice also sounded vaguely familiar but Harry didn't give time to dwell on that.

"I'm Draco's friend," Harry responded angrily. "And I won't let you beat him up."

Some form of recognition seemed to dawn on the other boy's face as it split into a malicious sort of delight.  
"I see what's going on here," the dark-skinned boy said as he looked at the larger boys surrounding him. "You never told us you were like that, Draco; this is an interesting bit of news."

"What are you on about?" Harry asked with slight anger and slight confusion. Obviously some kind of understanding had come over the boy but Harry couldn't, for the life of him, figure out what it was. However, the others seemed to be ignoring his presence for the time being and his question remained unanswered.

"Alright Draco, we'll leave you alone for now," the dark boy said. "But we'll be back to finish this. You and your little…uh…friend," he smirked at this, "better watch your backs."

They shoved past Harry, ran off and disappeared down the street. Harry half-wanted to chase after them but his concern for Draco kept him there instead. He rushed over to the boy still on the ground and knelt down by him.

"Draco? Are you okay?"

"I think…so," Draco said as he coughed and spat out some blood. He looked about ready to pass out.

"I think we need to get you to a hospital," Harry said, alarmed.

"NO!" Harry jerked at Draco's loud tone. "No…no hospital. Just take me…to Severus's."

"Severus? You mean Mr. Snape?" Draco nodded. "Okay, but you'll have to lead me there. Can you stay conscious long enough to do that?" Again, Draco nodded weakly. Harry bit his lip and bent over to gather Draco up. He pulled the boy's arm over his shoulder and wrapped his own arm around Draco's waist. He hauled him up and staggered at the weight. Draco was heavier than he was, but at the moment he tried not to let that become a problem. Wincing slightly from having pressure on his injured ribs, Harry slowly began helping Draco walk towards where he had left Hermione. He sure hoped Hermione hadn't driven off without him.

It was a relief, however, when he saw Hermione rushing towards him. Her eyes widened at the sight and she sped up until she was in front of them.

"Harry! What happened?" she asked.

"Draco's injured. We need to take him to Mr. Snape's house. He's going to show us the way but we need your dad's car. Can you bring it around?"

"Yes, of course." She rushed off again to get the car and left Harry to deal with Draco. Draco was almost dead weight on him and it was a slow process, but eventually they made it to the curb of the street where Hermione already had the car waiting. She jumped out and came over to help Harry with Draco. They both eased the boy into the front seat before getting inside themselves.

Harry was in a panic the whole drive there; Draco was giving weak instructions to a nervous Hermione. He idly noticed how Hermione's driving improved greatly when she was under pressure. When they reached the tall complex ten minutes later, they hurriedly helped Draco out of the car and up to the building. What proved to be the most difficult task yet was half helping, half dragging Draco up several flights of stairs.

Harry and Hermione were both out of breath when they stopped in front of their teacher's door. Harry lifted a fist and knocked loudly on the door, hoping beyond hope that the man was home. He wondered why Draco had chosen here, of all places, to go when going to the hospital would have been the more suitable choice.

The door opened and the tall, sallow-faced man appeared in the entrance. He took in the sight with surprise and curiosity.

"Please, sir," Hermione said breathlessly. "Draco needs help. He told us to take him here. Can you help us?" She said all of this in a rush, her cheeks flushed with exertion and panic in her voice.

"Come in," Snape urged them as he held the door open wide for them. Hermione and Harry hauled Draco inside; he must have passed out sometime during their ascent to Snape's level, because he was now unconscious.

"Lay him on the sofa," Snape ordered. They both did as they were told; they gently placed Draco on the soft cushions of the sofa and watched him nervously. Hermione was fidgeting with the hem of her shirt and Harry was biting his lips so harshly that they began to bleed.

"Please, calm down," Snape's oily voice said. "Watch him while I go get my medical supplies." They nodded and the man disappeared through a door that most likely led to his bedroom.

Draco continued to lie still; the bleeding from his nose seemed to have stopped, but his paler-than-normal face was splashed with caking blood.

"Here." Harry felt a rag being pressed into his hands. He looked up and saw Snape standing there with a bowl of water. "Clean him up for me while I prepare my remedies."

Harry took the rag and knelt down by the sofa. He dipped it in the warm water and rung it out a bit before gently wiping off the dirt and blood from Draco's face. He was careful not to aggravate any of the wounds on him. By the time he was finished cleaning off everything he could, the water in the bowl was tinged pink from the blood. He gave it to Hermione to dump out and turned back to Draco.

"Please be okay," Harry said as he reached up and brushed a stray bit of hair away from the blonde's face. He noticed how red and puffy his lips had become; most likely from the assault, but he couldn't help but think that it looked incredibly sexy. Licking his lips and looking over to the kitchen where Hermione was cleaning out the bowl, he bent over and brushed his own lips lightly over Draco's. It was soft and quick, quite the contrast to their first kiss; he had a feeling that also had a lot to do with the fact that Draco wasn't conscious for this one.

"Alright," Snape said as he reentered the room. Harry quickly straightened himself. "Please lift up his shirt so I may see if there is any damage done to his abdomen."

"What?" Harry squeaked as a hot blush formed on his face.

"You heard me. Hurry up, boy."

Harry nodded and quickly reached over to heed to the man's commands. He pulled up at the bottom of Draco's shirt to reveal his stomach and chest. He heaved a sigh of relief when he noticed there were only a few minor bruises blemishing the milky-white skin.

"It seems as if most of the damage was done to the face," Snape commented as he applied salve to the few cuts and bruises on Draco's torso. "That is good." When Snape was finished applying the salve to the injuries on the boy's body, he stood up and turned his gaze towards Harry and Hermione.

"I'm afraid I am out of bandages, so I'll need to make a run to the pharmacy. You two will watch him, yes?"

"Yes, sir," they both chorused obediently. Snape quickly gathered up his coat before heading out the door.

"Do you think he'll be alright?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, it looked worse than it really was. He'll be fine."

"Oh, that's good," Hermione sighed in relief. "You really scared me when you hopped out of the car like that. And when you came back with what appeared to be a half dead boy in your arms, I nearly had a heart attack!"

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry said as he gave her a one-armed hug. "Forgive me?"

"Oh, of course. It's not like it was your fault, anyway."

"I'm really sorry this ruined your dad's birthday surprise."

"Don't worry about it. It's not that important. But I probably should go home; they could be back any minute and if they find the car gone and me gone with it…well, I don't really want to think about the consequences."

"Alright, I'll keep watch here."

"You sure. You'll be alright by yourself, won't you?"

"Of course, Hermione. I'm sixteen, not six."

"Well then, do take care and call me if you need anything, and I mean anything."

"I will, thanks." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and hurried out the door. Harry could tell she didn't like the idea of leaving him behind but it wasn't like he was in any immediate danger. He was safe in Snape's house.

After about ten minutes of just sitting there by Draco's prone form, Harry decided to get up and explore. He didn't plan on invading in on Snape's personal privacy but he wanted to check out some of the many books Snape owned. He shouldn't have been as surprised as he was at the amount, seeing as Snape seemed like the type to read as much as Hermione did. He browsed the titles, none seeming to catch his fancy. Astronomy and chemistry weren't even on his list of interests. Sure, the stars were cool and all but nothing that he would spend as much time as Snape did on.

When he came to the end of one of the bookshelves, something caught his eye. It was a very thin, very dusty book hiding behind the other larger, glossier books. He reached over and plucked it off the shelf. He blew some dust from it and looked it over; he was surprised to see that it was an old photo-album.

With piqued interest, he cracked open the worn book and flipped to the first page. It looked as if there were only ten or so photo's in the whole album. And they were all in black-and-white. The first one was of what he could only assume to be a child-Snape standing next to a tall, sinister looking man. The man looked a lot like how Snape did now and that lead Harry to believe that he was Snape's father. Looking down at the next picture, this one was of Snape in his school uniform, scowling at the camera with discontent. Harry couldn't help but smile a bit at that. 'Snape's such a grouch.'

Skipping down the few family photos there, the very last one caught his attention. It was Snape standing next to a girl about the same age; in this one, they were both smiling. The girl was shorter than Snape, with hair down to her shoulders and bright, laughing eyes. He wondered who she was. He pulled the photo from the album and turned it over. It read:

"Severus and Lily Evans, age 10."

So surprised at reading his mother's name on the back of the picture, Harry dropped the entire album with a resounding thud. He turned the picture over again and studied it some more. Something in it caught his attention – there, around the girl's neck appeared to be a rather familiar looking chain. Could it be…?

"What are you doing?" a voice asked from behind. It was Snape! Harry quickly bent over and placed the picture back inside the album before stuffing the whole thing onto the shelf. He turned around hastily, guilt so evident on his face that there was no way he could lie his way out of this one. But that didn't mean one couldn't try.

"Nothing, sir."

"What were you looking at?" Snape's eyes were narrowed in suspicion.

"Just…looking at these books," Harry said, waving his arm frantically at the collection of novels behind him. Snape's eyes darted from between Harry and the books and back to Harry. He gave the boy an unsettling gaze before nodding.

"Indeed," he said as he turned back to Draco. He began wrapping gauze around some of the larger cuts to protect them from infection. Harry shifted on his feet anxiously as he watched the man work.

"When will he wake up?" he asked.

"Most likely tomorrow; tonight if we're lucky." Harry nodded again, unsure of what else to say. "Thank you for bringing him here."

"It was his idea," Harry replied. "Does…um…this happen…often?"

"Not quite; he often comes here when he's feeling troubled - this would have to be one of the few times he's shown up on my doorstep injured like that."

"Oh, I see."

"You're welcome to stay with him if you'd like." Snape was giving Harry an odd stare again; it was almost as if he was seeing something else inside of him.

"Really?" Snape gave an affirmative nod. "Thank you, sir."

"I'll be in my room if you need anything. Alert me at once if Draco wakes up or if something happens."

"I will."

"Good." And with that, Snape disappeared once again through the door leading to his room. Harry sat down in one of the armchairs by the sofa Draco was currently residing on. He stared off into space, rubbing the vacant spot on his chest where his necklace used to be and thinking about what he had seen. Had his mother really been friends with Snape when they were young? The picture obviously gave off that impression. And there was a lot that he didn't know about his mother; for all he knew, it could have been true. But he also knew that whatever there had been between his mother and Snape, Snape wanted to forget it. That much had been obvious from the state the album had been in. So instead of asking like anyone else would have, Harry opted to just let the man be. Instead, he remained silent and waiting as he watched Draco sleep through the night.

* * *

Author's Note: -mumbles something about stupid chapters not wanting to be written- UGH this took SO long. It was a struggle, but here it is! Finally, the climax of the story has been set into motion. This isn't the climax of course, which probably won't happen for several more chapters, but this sets in motion what I want to happen. I also wasn't sure how I wanted this story to end, opting to just stay with how the original ended, but then today I got a new idea for an ending. And I really like it; I think it wraps the story up better than the original ending had.

Anyway, thanks for being so patient with me! My life has taken an unexpected 180 on me :P Hope you enjoyed the chapter and thanks for all of your reviews. Really, from the bottom of my heart. I try to reply to all of them, but that doesn't always happen!

Review again please!

P.S. My story has reached one hundred thousand words! Exciting :D


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

He was in pain; that was the first thing that registered in his mind. That, and he was lying on something exceptionally soft and comfortable. Shifting around a bit, he came to realize it must be a sofa of some sort. The next thing that came to him was that it was bright. Too bright. Harsh light pressed against his eyelids as if trying to force them open. In the background, the faint clanking of something metal against metal and shuffling footsteps could be heard. Where was he? How did he get there?

Finally deciding to open his eyes up, the first thing that drowned his senses was golden, morning sunlight. When that cleared up, a ceiling came into view; he knew at once that it was not that of his own house. He must be in someone else's home; that much was obvious.

It took a moment or two, but then everything came crashing down on him like a huge tidal wave of realization: Blaise and the others cornering him, Blaise beating him up, Harry coming to his rescue, coming to Severus's place, and then passing out. He sat up so suddenly that his entire body seized up from the agony. He crashed back down on the sofa and moaned. He calmed himself down for a few moments, taking deep breaths, before getting up again – slowly this time. His back ached and his head pounded but he felt more stable.

He looked around, and as he had predicted, he was in Severus's living room. Swinging his legs over the sofa, he placed his bare feet on the floor. Flexing his fingers and toes to make sure everything worked properly, he turned his head towards the kitchen area. Sure enough, there was Severus working on his usual graphs of the constellations.

"I see you're finally awake," Severus said from his spot, not even looking up. There was the distinct sound of a pen scratching on paper as Draco sat there for a few moments. After thinking everything over, he decided to go ahead and ask Severus some questions.

"Where's Harry?" It hadn't been the first question he wanted to ask, but for some reason it seemed to be the one that wanted to be asked first.

"He's out on the fire escape," Severus answered calmly, flipping through a book before finding what he was looking for and writing it down.

"He…he came to visit me?"

"He never left." This time, Severus looked up and gave Draco a sideways glance. "He was here all night, in that chair right beside you."

That surprised Draco; after the way he had been treating Harry, he hadn't expected the boy to do such things for him. There was something welling up inside of him and he couldn't quite pinpoint what it was. Gratitude? Surprise?...Affection? Whatever it was, he liked it. It felt good; but it also made him feel quite guilty. Then again, Harry did have a knack for making Draco feel that way often.

"If you wish to speak with him, I think you should do so now," Severus broke through his thoughts. "He's been quite worried and he would be quite relieved to see you awake."

Draco licked his dry lips and clenched his fingers against the cushions of the sofa. How would it be to face the boy he had treated so poorly after said boy had been so kind to him? Draco wasn't used to having these kinds of problems. He still couldn't get over the fact that Harry had turned his whole life so completely upside-down.

"Yeah, I guess I should," he told Severus after a long pause. Slowly, and quite stiffly, he arose from his seated position and held onto the armrests of the seat to make sure he had his balance. Making his way across the room was no easy feat, seeing as his whole body ached like no tomorrow. But eventually, he made it to Severus's bedroom door and walked inside. He saw that the window leading to the fire escape was already open and the curtains were fluttering slightly in the breeze. He sighed as he leaned on the door frame. For some reason, it felt like a hard job to just walk through the bedroom and climb through the window as he had done so many times before. Maybe it was because of what was on the other side of the window this time.

He made his way over to the window and leaned down. His hands were pressed against the painted wood of the sill and he stuck his head through the opening. At first, all he could see was the bright sunlight, but when his eyes began to adjust and his vision cleared a bit, he was able to make out the form of the other boy.

Harry was leaning against the railing - his back was arched, which caused his shirt to ride up. It gave Draco a brief view of the pale skin Harry often hid underneath baggy clothing. His dark hair ruffled in the breeze, giving it an even messier appearance and the sunlight seemed to form around him like a kind of angelic glow. A feeling began rising up inside of him from what he was seeing; his face felt uncomfortably hot and his heart was beating a little too fast.

Shaking his head, he took a hold of himself again. Once he did so, the angelic glow disappeared and instead, it was just Harry standing there looking down at the street below. In place of the unfamiliar feelings from a moment before was a sense of inexplicable anger and frustration.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked, finally announcing himself. He couldn't keep the annoyance out of his voice. He didn't even know why it was there, but he felt as if he couldn't stop it either.

Harry turned around and his eyes widened with surprise and relief. A small smile formed on his lips and his green eyes shone with happiness.

"Draco! You're awake, and you're walking around! That must mean you're okay."

"As okay as I can be in this condition," Draco answered bitterly. Even that surprised him. What was with the sudden mood change? But Harry either didn't seem to notice or didn't care. He just smiled at him as he placed his hands against the railing behind him and leaned back. That stupid smile; it made his own palm go sweaty and his stomach clench uncomfortably. He hated it.

"Well, I'm glad you're okay; really, we were worried about you."

"We?"

"Me and Hermione."

"You still haven't answered my question."

"Question?"

"As to what you're doing out here," Draco said, a cold tone to his voice. Harry suddenly frowned at him and he turned his head away.

"It's very nice up here," Harry answered calmly as he gazed at the giant maple tree. "It's quiet and you can just watch everyone else while remaining hidden."

"That's why I like it here," Draco said as he climbed all the way through the window now and joined Harry out on the fire escape. "I like to be_ alone_."He stressed the word 'alone'.

"I imagine so," Harry said as he turned his back to Draco and looked out onto the city again. "Sometimes it's hard to find solitude in a place like this, but once you do it must be so wonderful to have."

Draco watched as Harry reached out and plucked a leaf from the tree. It was perfectly shaped and green. He twirled it between two fingers while he stood there silently. Draco wondered what he was thinking; the intent expression on his face gave away the fact that his mind was somewhere far away right then.

"Of course, it's always nice to have someone to be with," Harry said dolefully. "Solitude can get awful lonely, don't you think?" To Draco, it seemed as if Harry was talking about something completely different now.

"Hn." Draco didn't know how to answer Harry's silly ponderings. The boy was full of so many frivolous thoughts and dreams, and Draco had no idea how to relate to that.

"Sorry," Harry said once he came back to himself. He flicked the leaf over the side of the rail and watched as it fluttered down to the ground. Draco studied Harry as the boy watched the leaf's progress. He was so strange but there was something so innocent and so…beautiful about him. It was addicting.

"I…look," Draco said thickly. He cleared his throat a few times and tried to get rid of the thoughts that had just invaded his mind. Harry turned to him and gave him an inquisitive look. "I appreciate what you did, but I'm okay now and…I'd like to be alone."

"What?" Harry asked, a little confused and hurt at the same time.

"Look, Harry, I don't know what made you think I liked you in the first place, but I don't want you around anymore. You didn't listen to me the first time and you ended up beating me around and…." He cut himself off. He didn't want to think about that.

Harry looked at him for a very long time with an expressionless face. His green eyes sparkled in the sunlight as he stood against the dark blue sky in the background. The branches of the trees creaked and groaned in the slight wind and the leaves rustled along with them.

"You really don't get it," he said after a long while. Harry's face grew hard and his jaw was set firmly. "Fine, I'll leave you alone." He moved from his spot and walked across the fire escape. Just as he was about to climb back through the window, he said something that was almost inaudible to Draco, "You really are just a heartless criminal."

Draco's stomach plummeted when he heard that. He watched Harry disappear through the window and then from the room. He heard his faint footsteps from the living room, some muttering and then the door closing.

He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. He couldn't believe he said those things; he hadn't really meant to. They just came out so suddenly he barely registered saying them. What was wrong with him? Did he really hate Harry that much? Or was it something else?

He sat down heavily and stuck his legs between the bars and curled his hands around them. He leaned his forehead against the cool metal and stared down at the people moving about.

'What am I doing to myself?' he thought bitterly. It seemed like he was determined to destroy himself; to make his life as miserable as possible as some sort of punishment upon himself.

Gripping the bars tightly, he began banging his head against the metal. It didn't solve any of his problems; it just caused even more pain to his already injured body, but it seemed to be the only thing he could do at the moment. He stopped and breathed in deeply. He closed his eyes and tried to get rid of all of these pestering thoughts. He wanted, just for once in his life, to stop thinking about everything. He never wanted so much weight resting on his weakening shoulders.

Opening his eyes, he threw his head back and looked up at the sky through the maple tree leaves. Rays of light filtered through the spaces between the leaves and shone into his eyes. He squinted into the light and let it warm his face. The gentle breeze caressed his flesh and caused goosebumps to rise up on it.

After awhile, he let his head fall back down and he focused his eyes on the street below again. He gazed down from the distance he was at and suddenly thought about how far down it was to the cement below. If someone was to fall from such a height, they would surely die. He briefly wondered what it would be like to just fall from somewhere high. Would he be afraid as he got closer and closer to the ground? Or would he feel a sort of relief, knowing that everything was just seconds away from being over with?

"Mr. Malfoy," Severus's calm voice snapped him from his thoughts. Draco stood up quickly and turned to face his teacher.

"Yes?"

"A word, please."

Draco nodded and followed Severus back through the window. It felt stuffy inside compared to the cool air of the outside. The two of them walked through the sitting room and into the small kitchen.

"Tea? Coffee?" Severus asked as he placed his kettle on the counter, "Or perhaps something else?"

"Water is good," Draco said, suddenly realizing how dry his throat was. It would explain the hoarseness of his voice.

Severus nodded and first filled his kettle with water before setting that on the stove. Then he went about gathering up a glass and filling it with ice and fresh, bottled water. When he sat the cold glass down in front of him, Severus took a seat opposite from him. He was giving Draco a calculating stare while silently sitting, as if he was waiting for Draco to say something first.

"What is it?" Draco asked impatiently after a few more moments of suffering silence.

"It is not often that inquire after your well-being," Severus said, folding his fingers together. "However, as a result of certain…well, events, I am becoming concerned."

"There is nothing to be concerned about, sir," Draco answered shortly while glaring down at the glass he was cupping in his hands. "Everything's fine."

"It is obvious that something is wrong when a boy shows up bloodied and unconscious on my doorstep." Draco could feel Severus's cool gaze on him still but he dared not look him in the eye. He just turned his head away slightly and ran a finger down the side of his water glass. "But perhaps…that is not what I should be concerned about."

"Huh?"

"What I mean is that I heard the conversation that took place outside my bedroom window…do not worry, I was not eavesdropping. You talk quite loudly, you know."

"What does this have to do with anything?" To Draco it seemed Severus's "word" was becoming a full-out sentimental therapy session.

"That boy, Harry; I have seen the way he looks at you. And your little…display of sudden irritation and anger tells me quite a lot."

"Yeah, and what does it tell you?"

"I am afraid that is something you will have to figure out for yourself."

Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes. It wouldn't kill for someone to just be straight with him at least once.

The whistling of the tea kettle interrupted their conversation and Severus stood up to go fetch his tea. Draco sat quietly as he waited for the man to return. When he heard him sit down again, he prepared for the rest of their little "heart-to-heart".

"So, what are you trying to tell me, Severus?"

"I am saying that perhaps you should talk to the boy; he was quite worried about you. He sat and watched after you all through the night, waiting for you to awaken. It is obvious that is cares about you; only a complete dunderhead would not see as much."

Draco lowered his eyes again and stared at one of the cuts on his hand, not really seeing it. He knew he had been unfair to Harry, as always, but he didn't know how to stop it. It was like he…couldn't help but get angry with Harry every time he was near him.

"Perhaps your anger is explained by fear of becoming close to someone," Severus said as though he had read his thoughts. Draco wouldn't put it past Severus to be able to read minds.

"That's ridiculous," Draco scoffed again. "I do not fear anything. And I do not need any friends. I have seen where that has gotten me."

"Do you honestly think those fools were your friends, Draco?"

Draco averted his eyes; he figured that Severus knew all along about the people he had been hanging around with and what he had been doing. It was a wonder that the man never said a word about it. This was the first time they really ever talked about Draco's life.

"They were all I had."

"You have poor judgment in people," Severus commented before he took a sip of tea. "And it has already gotten you in trouble. You need to start anew; find new friends. Start with Harry – he is a good lad."

"Even if I wanted to be his friend, it's not like he wants to see me anyway. I pretty much told him to get lost."

"I'm sure he'd forgive you if you asked for it. He doesn't seem like the type to hold a grudge." Draco knew that was true; the boy had already forgiven him for so much already; it was amazing the kid still liked him at all. It was a bit of a shocker that Severus knew this as well; the man had a scary talent for reading people at a glance. He briefly wondered if Harry had any classes with Severus. It seemed rather likely.

"Draco, your life has been hard and, chances are, it's only going to get harder. Get as many friends as you can. It may help you."

Draco knew in his heart that Severus was right. He was sure that he really did want to be friends with Harry, but he was afraid to. He had already lost so much; his father to alcoholism, soon his mother to cancer, his so-called friends to prejudice and crime…he shouldn't push even more people from his life.

'Gods, I need a smoke,' he thought as he let out a puff of air. This was too much for his poor, muddled brain to handle.

"I guess you're right, Severus. I should go talk to him." Draco stood up suddenly, momentarily forgetting that he was still in a lot of pain. His body protested from the agony and he leaned over to clutch the table for support.

"Easy now," Severus said, looking up at him from his seat. "Perhaps, before you go running out of this building and chasing Harry down like a lunatic, you should have a shower and perhaps a bite to eat."

'That sounds like a logical idea,' Draco thought. After all, if he really did want to go "chasing" after Harry, as Severus aptly put it, he should have enough energy to do so.

"You look a fright, boy; go on, you know where the bathroom is. I'll prepare something for you."

"Thanks, Severus." Severus merely nodded and sipped some more of his tea. Draco hobbled from the room and into the gleaming white bathroom. He saw several fluffy white towels waiting for him on top of a cabinet and a bottle of shampoo on the edge of the bathtub. An amused grin spread across his face at the sight of it; he wondered if Severus ever used it, or if it was just for show.

Usually, he took cold showers to settle his nerves and muscles after a long day; but today, he decided that a nice warm one would do the trick. He turned the handles until steaming water poured from the over-head spout, quickly fogging up the bathroom. He stripped from his dirty, ripped clothing and shoved them to the side with his foot.

He stepped under the jet of warm water and sighed in content. It aggravated his wounds just a bit but it was heaven to his senses. He scrubbed the crusted blood from his face and body, watching as the pink tinged water swirled around his feet before going down the drain.

When he was sure he was clean and raw from scrubbing, he turned off the water and wrapped a towel around his waist before stepping out. He looked down at his naked self and wondered what he was going to wear; walking around the city in ripped and bloody clothes did not sound very appealing to him. It was just then that a knock on the door sounded, as if answering his ponderings.

He opened it, watching as steam billowed from the room and wafted around Severus.

"I thought you could use some fresh clothing," Severus said. "I picked some up last night when I knew you were going to be here until the morning."

"You went to my house?"

"Yes, where else?"

"How did you get in?"

"Lucius let me in," Severus answered dryly before thrusting a fresh pair of trousers and a green t-shirt into his arms. "He was quite charming about it too."

Draco chuckled lightly at Severus's sarcasm and thanked him before closing the door on him. He knew that Severus and his father used to be friends; "used" being the key word. He figured that it was at about the same time his father took up drinking that their friendship went down the drain.

He pulled on his clothes, not bothering to dry himself completely and looked into the mirror. His hair was mused up from the water, sticking up in every direction, but otherwise he didn't look too bad considering the beating he took. A few bruises and minor cuts here and there, but nothing he hadn't already experienced before.

He left the bathroom feeling refreshed and ready to greet the world again. It was odd how such a mood change can occur just from a simple pleasure like a warm shower. His bare feet slapped against the cold tile of the kitchen as he entered; a warm bowl of onion soup and a glass of milk was waiting for him on the table.

The soup tasted wonderful on his tongue and the milk slid down his throat like liquid silk. It helped clear his mind even further when it hit his stomach welcomingly. He drained his bowl and cup to the very last drop and sighed contently.

"Thanks Severus," Draco said as he stood up, "For everything."

"Think nothing of it," Severus waved it off. The man turned back to his books and papers and who-knew-what-else without another word. Draco just shook his head and headed toward the front door. He slipped on his shoes, which were waiting by the door for him, and he headed out.

When he was once again out on the streets of the city, he stopped to think about where he was going to go. He figured the first thing to do would be to make things up with Harry. But he wasn't sure where he would be. What day was it anyway? Saturday? Sunday? It seemed he had lost track of the days already – and he had only been out for less than a full day.

'I guess I'll start with that Granger girl's house,' he thought as he started to head in that direction. 'He seems to always be around her, anyway.'

It took awhile to get there, seeing as she lived rather far away from Severus, but he got there in good timing (at least, he considered it good timing); he couldn't help but feel pleased with himself for even remembering where the girl lived.

He walked calmly up the front steps and knocked on the door without hesitation. The sooner he got this over with, the better.

It didn't take too long for the door to open, revealing a very pregnant woman. He remembered her from Halloween as Hermione's mother. She smiled down at him.

"Ah, hello Draco, dear, are you looking for Hermione?"

"Well…actually…"

"HERMIONE!" Mrs. Granger yelled through the house.  
"What!?" came a distant reply.

"There's someone at the door for you!"

"WHAT WAS THAT?"

"I SAID THERE'S SOMEONE AT THE DOOR FOR YOU."

"OKAY, HOLD ON," was the bellowed reply.

Mrs. Granger turned back to Draco with a smile on her face.

"Sorry about that; she's been holed up in her room all day, reading those school books of hers again."

"Oh," was the only thing Draco could think to say. There was a semi-awkward silence before the girl with the bouncing hair came bounding into view.

"Who is it…oh! Hi Draco," Hermione said rather breathlessly. "How are you? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?"

Draco raised an eyebrow at Hermione's fast speech and waited calmly for the girl to slow down and let him answer.

"I'm looking for Harry," he said, cutting right to the chase. "Is he here?"

"Oh, no, I'm sorry," Hermione said as she cocked her head at him. "He stopped by for a few moments before heading straight to the book shop. He works there. He seemed rather distressed. Did something happen?"

"Well, sort of…I just need to speak with him."

"Oh, well I'm sure he's still at the book shop; you'll probably find him there. Do you know where it is?"

"Yeah, I do," Draco said, thinking back to that fateful night. "Thanks."

"No problem," Hermione said as she gave Draco a sympathetic and worried look.

"Bye."

"Bye." The door closed on Draco and left him standing alone. He turned away from the house and began his journey to the book shop. The whole way there he was thinking over how the situation would go down. There were plenty of ways it could all happen; Harry could get angry and chase him from the shop. He could forgive him, which was what Draco was hoping for. Or he could just simply ignore him entirely. He just hoped that wouldn't be the outcome.

When he reached the little old shop, he looked up at the sign with a bit of trepidation. It seemed like it was the first step to the start of his life. He could make a real friend; maybe find a bit of happiness in the desolation that was his existence.

Gathering up what courage he possessed, he pushed open the door. The tingling of the bell announced his entrance to, in his mind, the whole world. He felt terribly exposed and nervous at the moment.

"Hello, dearie," said an older woman from behind the counter. Draco turned to her. "How may I help you?"

"I was, er, looking for Harry Potter," Draco answered. The woman eyed him a bit before nodding.

"Harry!"

"What?" The sound of Harry's voice from the back of the store caused Draco's stomach to fill with butterflies. How did Harry _do_ that?

"You have a visitor!"

"A visitor? Who is it?"

"A young man."

"Er…okay, hold on," was his last call before there was some shuffling and banging noises. Then, he appeared around the large book cases, wiping his hands on his jeans. He stopped in mid-step when his eyes landed on Draco, who was standing off to the side.

"Oh, it's you," Harry said with a bit of malice in his voice. Draco winced, not liking that sound in Harry's voice one bit. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to apologize," Draco said. Harry looked at him with a blank expression.

"Is that so?" Harry said before he turned away from him and headed back down the aisles. Draco followed him stubbornly, the floorboards creaking under his feet. He wasn't going to lose just like that.

"Will you just listen to me? I want to explain myself." They were in a secluded section of the book shop. Harry started shelving some books, forcing them onto the shelves a bit roughly. He was angry. That much was obvious. Okay, so he really had to work for it now.

"You made yourself quite clear this morning," Harry said, shoving a book so hard this time that it hit the back of the shelf, causing a resounding bang. He turned to Draco, a frown on his face…but his eyes, his eyes held not anger, but sadness. "If you're here to apologize just because you feel guilty, then don't bother."

"No, listen…"

"What do you want from me, Malfoy?" Harry said, slamming a large hard-back onto the cart from which he was picking up the books. Draco flinched and stepped backward. "I don't get you; first, you act all tough, then you start to seem like a decent guy, and then you go and do stuff like this…over and over. Are you really that messed up? Or are you just toying with me?"

"No, will you just please listen to me?"

"Why? You got even more to say to me? What else can you possibly say? I'm already hurt enough as it is. I'd like to spare myself from any more grief, thank you." Harry turned away from him again and began his work. Draco couldn't help it; he felt angry that Harry wasn't listening. He knew that he had every right not listen to him, but it still made him angry. Here he was, trying to do a decent thing and it was just being thrown back into his face.

He stepped forward and reached out to grab Harry's shoulder. He whirled the boy around and held him steady by both shoulders.

"Listen," he said, trying to take a reign on his anger. He didn't want to scare the boy and push him away even further. He took a deep breath, and searched through Harry's green eyes. The boy was looking up at him with sadness - a hint of anger and want was mixed in as well. 'Here goes nothing,' he thought.

"I'm sorry." There he said it, and he felt a huge relief wash through him. He couldn't believe he actually went through with it. And he meant it, too. Now, all he had to do was wait for Harry's response.

Harry blinked a few times and stared up at him. The nervousness was beginning to come back as the silence grew longer. Why was he taking so long to say something? Did he still hate his guts?

And then the thing he had not been expecting happened. Harry stood up on his toes and kissed him on the cheek. A kiss. He had been expecting him to start yelling; to ignore his apology, to punch him again; even a simple acceptance would have been more likely. But a kiss? Harry sure was full of surprises.

"Okay," Harry said. "Let's start over shall we? For real this time – those other times didn't count."

Draco chuckled and nodded, willing to go along with anything right then. He was just happy that Harry was forgiving him.

"Hi, I'm Harry Potter," Harry said, reaching out a hand to shake.

"Hi Harry, I'm Draco Malfoy, pleasure to finally get to meet you for real." He took Harry's slender hand in his own calloused one and gave it a firm shake.

"There, that's all settled."

"Thanks - for forgiving me, that is."

"Anytime. And I'm glad you're alright. Even when I was angry with you, I was worried. Are those…boys going to come back for you?"

"I'm not sure," Draco answered truthfully. Blaise did say he was going to come back, but he wasn't sure if that was just to intimidate him, or if it was a legitimate threat.

"Just be careful."

"I will."

"Good. So…now that we're all buddy-buddy again, I think you should go back home and rest. I really need to finish my work anyway. Ms. Pince will murder me otherwise."

"Okay, Harry, I'll see you around then?"

"You bet." Draco began turning to leave and was just about to exit the shop when Harry called after him.

"Draco! Wait! I almost forgot."

"What?"

"I um…," Harry blushed a little as he fiddled with the hem of his sleeve. "I have this dance performance coming up, and I'd really like it if you…came to watch."

"Sure," Draco said right away. "I'd love to."

Harry smiled and Draco smiled with him. It felt good; this connection the two of them seemed to share. Ever since the first time he had laid eyes on the boy, it seemed that fate had decided to bring them together; as friends…or as something more. Only time would tell. For now, he just wanted to be happy; he had always thought happiness was something he couldn't understand; like a fairy-tale, it seemed to elude his reality. But at that very moment, he was definitely happy.

* * *

Author's Note: -twitch- Why do these kinds of chapters seem to take the longest to write? Well, here it is! Tell me what you honestly thought of it.

And thank you to all those who have reviewed. I appreciated it very much! Also, Happy belated-Thanksgiving to whomever it matters!

Hope you enjoyed.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

"No way."

"Come on, Hermione."

"I absolutely refuse to."

"You need practice."

"I'm good enough as it is."

"You are in serious denial, Hermione." Hermione rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. Harry felt frustrated with his friend's stubborn attitude. He just wanted to get this over with so he could get out of there.

He, Hermione and Ron were standing in front of Ron's truck in an abandoned shop's parking lot. It was a chilly day and Harry really did not want to be out there, but Ron had insisted he come along as well. He had reluctantly agreed, feeling it easier to give in than to argue about it further. He really wanted to just practice his and Hermione's newly constructed dance routine. The performance date was closing in on them and they still needed a lot of preparation.

So instead of doing that, they were standing in a cold and desolate lot so Hermione can practice her driving skills. Despite the girl's obvious denial, she was seriously lacking in that area. And Ron was kind enough to agree to be her tutor. Hermione had argued quite a bit all the way there, but Ron paid no mind to any of her protests.

"This is…just absurd, Harry, I can't believe you actually went to Ron," Hermione said. She was giving him a look that made it seem as if he had just ordered a world-wide book burning.

"I told you I would, didn't I?" Harry responded. He just hadn't expected to be dragged along too. He blew into his numb hands for warmth and shifted from foot to foot to make sure they didn't fall off as well.

"Let's get this show on the road, shall we?" Ron announced as he finished setting up the last cone. The old lot was decorated in bright orange cones lined up in a sort of test course.

"Where did you get those cones, anyway?" Hermione asked a bit suspiciously.

"They were just lying around the house," Ron shrugged. "So I just snatched them. It's no big deal."

"Whatever, let's just get this over with, okay?" Harry suggested impatiently. He was pretty sure they looked a bit silly to anyone that happened to pass by the secluded area. They were, after all, just standing in front of an old truck, in an old lot, staring at it as if they'd never seen a car before.

"This is so not okay," Hermione said in a feeble attempt to get the boys to change their minds.

"Well, no one was asking you," Ron said as he pushed Hermione towards the driver's side of the truck.

"But Harry just…"

"No arguing, get in there. From what Harry tells me, you are in serious need of professional instruction – and I'm just the guy to provide that."

"I'm so sure," Hermione said as she rolled her eyes again. She grabbed the door frame of the driver's side and hauled herself into the seat. Harry couldn't believe how she was reacting to this; usually she would be ecstatic to learn something new. He figured her mood had a lot to do with who was doing the teaching at the moment.

"Come on, Harry, you next." Ron was waving for Harry to get in from his spot by Hermione. But Harry couldn't help but feel hesitant. The last time he had gotten into a car with Hermione behind the wheel, things had been a bit too bumpy for him. He wasn't particularly keen to go through that again.

"I dunno…"

"Are you telling me you want to miss out on Hermione's first driving lesson?"

"I…" But before he could get another word out, Ron leaned over the seat and grabbed his arm. He pulled Harry in so he was settled next to Ron.

"Don't you think having so many people in the truck could be a hindrance for Hermione?" Harry asked while fumbling for the door handle. He really did not like this.

"No way, I'm here. I'll guide her through it. Besides, this will be a group thing. We three friends are in it together, for better…or for worse." Harry didn't like the sound of that "for worse" business. How did he always get himself into these situations?

"Okay, Hermione, first things first - start the car…you just gotta…"

"I know how to start a car, Ronald," Hermione said.

"Then by all means, please," Ron said, waiting for Hermione to continue. Hermione, with shaking hands, Harry noticed, started up the car. It spurred to life and rumbled underneath them. Harry wondered if Hermione was nervous or just eager to impress a certain someone. He settled on a mixture of both.

"Okay…um…," Hermione looked confused as to what to do next.

"Just guide the car through the simple course I created with the cones. Every time you run over a cone, think of it as running over an innocent person."

"Thanks, Ron," Hermione said. "That was just the confidence booster I needed."

"Honestly, Hermione, you're seventeen. I'm surprised you never learned how to drive before this."

"My parents just didn't think I was ready, okay?" Hermione shot back at him.

"Well, won't your parents be surprised when they finally decide you are ready and you already kick ass at driving?"

"Oh, they'll be thrilled," Hermione muttered. "I got lucky, considering they didn't find out I took the car last time. But this…I think I'm pushing my luck a bit."

"Then you shouldn't have pulled that stunt. If you hadn't, then you wouldn't be here right now."

"Don't remind me." Hermione took a deep breath and reset her gaze on the course in front of her. Harry buckled his seatbelt securely and gripped the edge of his seat tightly.

"You're both making a big deal out of nothing. This was your idea in the first place, Harry, so relax," Ron said as he thumped Harry on the back. Harry just gave him a weak smile. That was easy for Ron to say; he has never been in a car with Hermione driving before.

"Any time, Hermione," Ron urged on.

"Hang on a second!" Hermione snapped. "I'm just preparing myself mentally."

They both watched silently as Hermione muttered to herself. They were only able to catch snippets of her conversation with herself – mostly things along the lines of "It's okay, it's just like an exam" and "It's not like I need this anyway".

"So overdramatic, Hermione," Ron said when Hermione seemed to finish. "Everything is going to be okay. The car won't do anything you don't make it do."

"Alright, here it goes," Hermione said. She reached her hand out to the gear shift and changed it to first gear. Gently, she eased the truck out onto the test course and lined it up in between the cones. Pressing down on the gas pedal even more, she sped up just a bit.

"Good, Hermione, just keep it steady," Ron instructed her. "Go ahead and change it to second gear now."

"Okay."

"There's a turn coming up, just stay inside the cones…"

"I got it, Ron."

"Slow down a bit."

"I know how to turn!" The truck slowed down as Hermione turned the wheel slightly to follow the turn made by the cones.

"Speed up just a little as you're inside the turn," Ron said.

"I've done this before, Ron," Hermione said as she stepped on the gas. But she must have pressed on it a little too much because the truck suddenly jolted and sped up.

"Slow down!"

"I'm trying!" Hermione screeched as the truck bashed through the line of cones and sped off down the lot.

"The brakes! The brakes!" Ron yelled as he reached over and grabbed the wheel, roughly yanking it to the left before they could smash into an upcoming tree.

"I'm pressing the brakes, it's not working!" Hermione said. Harry's eyes were wide as he watched the scene unfold. He knew this was a bad idea – he will never, ever let Hermione drive him anywhere…ever.

"You've got your foot on the gas! Let it go." Hermione apparently had her foot on the gas and brake pedals at the same time. She abruptly took her foot off the gas and jammed down on the brake. The car came to a halt just before a large pole in the center of the parking lot. Everyone sat frozen for a few moments; Hermione had both her hands on the wheel and her eyes were wide open with fright. Her chest with heaving and Harry could see her hands were shaking. He himself was sure his heart was going to leap out of his chest.

After a few more moments of buzzing silence, they all took timid looks at each other. But that was all it took; the moment Ron and Harry's eyes met, they both burst out laughing. Harry doubled over as Ron leaned over on him as the laughter continued to spill from their mouths.

Harry looked up at Hermione, who was giving them both looks of pure loathing. She was obviously not as amused by these events as they were.

"Honestly! What is the matter with you two?"

"My God, Hermione," Ron wheezed out. "When Harry said you needed a little help…I never imagined…you would be this bad!"

"I…it…stop laughing!"

Harry and Ron immediately sat up and tried to hold back the laughs that threatened to come out. They shared a look and almost choked on the humor of it all. Swallowing their amusement, they sobered up and took deep breaths.

"Sorry, Hermione."

"Yeah, sorry 'Mione. It wasn't that funny…, well the way you were screeching like a hen was…I mean…"

Ron immediately stopped talking at the look Hermione was giving him. "Er…how about we just back this up and try again?"

"That sounds like a grand idea, Ronald."

"Okay, then. Just put the truck in…"

"Reverse, I know." Hermione switched the gear into what she obviously thought was reverse, but instead of going backwards, the car went forwards and slammed right into the pole. Harry jolted forward and the seatbelt caught around his throat, keeping him from being thrown through the windshield but definitely giving him a nice choke. There was more silence as everyone took in what just happened.

"My car!"

"My throat."

"…oops."

Ron scrambled over Harry and climbed out of the truck. Harry and Hermione unbuckled their belts and immediately followed. They all rushed to the front of the car to inspect the damage. Ron knelt down to take a closer look while Hermione leaned forward.

"It's just a little dent."

"Just a little dent? Do you have any idea how much that will cost to fix?"

"Honestly, it's not that bad. You just need to buffer it out a little."

"You've wrecked my car," Ron accused as he stood up.

"I did not wreck your car; it was a little bump in with a pole. Get over it."

"As if my poor truck hasn't been through enough as it is."

"I didn't think anything _else_ could happen to it," Harry commented from the background. Ron spun around and narrowed his eyes at him.

"What's that mean, Harry?"

"I'm just saying it was in pretty bad shape as it is. A little dent like that isn't gonna change anything. I seriously doubt anyone will notice."

"_I'll_ notice! Now I'll never get any girls with it all banged up like this."

Hermione snorted, "Oh yeah, because I'm so sure it was a serious chick-magnet before."

"Be quiet, car-wrecker."

"You're the one who made me do this! I told you it was a bad idea!"  
"And you're the one who doesn't know how to use 'reverse'!"

Harry covered his ears with his hands to try and drown out the heated argument. He was tired of hearing the two go after each other's throats. Deciding enough was enough, he uncovered his ears to stop the fight from escalating any further.

"…the brakes, Hermione! That's what they're bloody there for."

"For goodness sa…"

"Enough!" Harry shouted over their voices. They both stopped and looked at him.

"What, Harry?"

"Something wrong, Harry?"

"Yes! You two always going at each other over every little thing is what's wrong. It's getting annoying!"

The two of them had the decency to look ashamed at their actions.

"Sorry, Harry."

"Yeah, sorry."

"Good. Now can we act like adults for two minutes and not like irrational children?"

"I guess so," Ron said as he looked at Hermione. He gave her a small smile. "I'm sorry for overreacting. It's not a big deal, really."

"And I guess I'm sorry for wrecking your car in the first place," Hermione replied. They lapsed into a sort of awkward silence after that. Harry couldn't help but feel happy at this new step they have taken. Maybe now they can get past their childish ways.

"I think we should get going now, I'll gather up the cones," Ron said.

"And I'll get the truck." Hermione made to walk back to the driver's side of the truck. Ron reached out and caught her arm before she could take a step closer.

"Oh no. I don't think so."

"What? Why not?"

"After that little display of total lack of driving abilities? You must be bonkers."

"I'm not going to wreck it again! Stop being such a baby about your stupid car, and give me the keys. I can do it, just watch."

'…Or not,' Harry thought. He sighed and rolled his eyes – he supposed some things never change.

---

The Weasley house was unlike any other household Harry had ever been to (granted, that was not very many). It was a narrow, two-story house with an unkempt garden and old shoes and broken objects lying about on the front steps. It was located in the lower-middle class section of the city; however, it was lucky that the neighborhood they lived in was a friendly one. As the trio pulled up to the Weasley house in Ron's newly dented truck, neighbors gave friendly smiles and waved to the youngest Weasley son.

"Afternoon, Ronald," an elderly lady said from her front steps as they stepped from Ron's car. "And who are these young people? Friends of yours?"

"Hi Mrs. Peterson," Ron waved. "This is Hermione and Harry."

"Nice to meet you, dears," Mrs. Peterson greeted. "But you best get on inside, Ronald; Molly has been looking for you all day."

"Oh no," Ron groaned. "We better get inside." As they were making their way up to the front steps of Ron's house, they heard a very distinct shouting match coming from inside.

"I told you two! No playing jokes on your little sister!" was the greeting that met them as they opened the door.

"But Mum! We didn't do anything!"  
"Don't give me that. You'll go apologize to Ginny this instant! The poor girl is distraught over what you two did."

Harry and Hermione shared a look. They wondered what happened.

"Fred and George," Ron whispered to them as he hung his coat up by the door. "It sounds like they pulled another prank again."

Harry nodded in understanding; he had heard about Ron's older twin brothers; they were notorious for pulling practical jokes on anyone dumb enough to fall for them.

The three of them walked into the kitchen where Mrs. Weasley, a short and plump woman, was washing dishes in the sink,

"Er…I'm home, Mum," Ron said a bit timidly. It seemed as if he didn't want to turn his mother's wrath upon himself. "And I brought friends."

Mrs. Weasley whirled around and a smile lit up on her face the instant her eyes landed on them.

"Hermione! How good to see you," she said as she approached them. "How have you been?"

"Good, thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione responded with a smile of her own.

"And this must be Harry," Mrs. Weasley said as she turned to Harry. "Ron has talked about you, of course! It seems you are becoming quite the pair of friends."

"It's nice to meet you," Harry said.

"Are you hungry? Or course you are, look how thin you are!"

"I…er…"

"Come, come, sit down and I will prepare you something. You too, Hermione."

"Great, Mum, I'm starving!" Ron said as he made for the table in the kitchen.

"Not you," Mrs. Weasley said, stopping Ron in his tracks. "I want you to go out to the back yard and finish pulling those weeds from my garden. I also think there's a rat living in Ginny's room. I want you to catch it for her; she's been hysterical all day."

"What? Why me?"

"Because I said so, now get moving!"

"Fine, fine." Ron was just about to head out when he turned back to his mother.

"Speaking of Ginny, what did Fred and George do to her?"

"Oh, those horrible boys! They replaced her shampoo with green dye. The poor dear is mortified. Luckily, it is only temporary dye; it will wash out soon enough."

Ron seemed to trying to hide his laughter, because he said in a rather choked voice, "Really? This I gotta see…I mean - I'll just go check up on her."

"Don't you dare make fun of her, Ronald Weasley!" Mrs. Weasley called after him, but Ron was already gone. "That boy, I swear…, well, anyway, take a seat you two."

Harry and Hermione took a seat at the table, sitting in the two chairs beside each other. They watched as Mrs. Weasley bustled about in the kitchen, preparing a small snack of freshly baked biscuits and milk. She smiled at the two of them as she set the tray with a small pile of oatmeal and raisin biscuits, as well as a jug of ice-cold milk in front of them.

"I'm so happy you and Ron are getting along again, Hermione," Mrs. Weasley commented as she poured milk into glasses for them. "He was in such an awful state after you two had that fight. But now he's back to his normal self again."

"Oh, really…?" Hermione said, looking a bit guilty. "That's…that's good to hear."

Harry reached out and grabbed one of the warm biscuits and nibbled on it. He wondered what Hermione was thinking about – it looked as if she was thinking something over very seriously. Her index finger was tracing the outline of the top of her milk glass and her eyes held a far-off glaze to them.

However, they were quite suddenly interrupted by a loud disturbance from the floor above them. It seemed as if two people were having a row about something.

"I better go check on them," Mrs. Weasley said as she gazed up at the ceiling from where the noise was coming.

"We'll do it, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione offered out of no where. She pushed her chair back and stood up.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, we're done here anyway."

"Well…alright. I do need to finish up in here anyway."

Hermione nodded and grabbed Harry's arm to haul him up. He dropped his half-eaten biscuit and followed her out of the kitchen. They walked into a hallway crowded with everyday household objects and other trinkets. He nearly tripped over a pair of boots as they made their way through it. When at last they reached the staircase leading to the upper-floor, the shouting had increased in volume. Harry looked up the steps toward the sound and recognized one of them as Ron's voice.

"Sounds like Ron found Ginny," Hermione said as she rolled her eyes and began walking up the case of stairs. Harry followed right behind her as he continued to look around at his surroundings. He wanted to drink in everything he saw; he had never seen such a strange house before – while Hermione's home was always neat and well-kempt, this one seemed to be disorderly, but in a homey way.

The stairs creaked under his feet as they ascended to the second-floor landing. There was a long stretch of hallway with doors that opened up to bedrooms and the like. There were family portraits, as well as individual and casual pictures on the walls – some lined straight while others hung crooked. He was just about to study a few of them when a couple of large, identical figures suddenly blocked his way.

"Who's this?"

"I've never seen him before, have you Fred?"

"I haven't, George."

"An intruder, perhaps?"

"It would seem that way, wouldn't it."

"Stop it, you two," Hermione said sternly. The twins turned to Hermione and huge, identical grins appeared on their faces.

"Hermione! Didn't see you there."

"And what do we owe this pleasure?"

"We're here with Ron," Hermione answered.

"Ron? Why bother with Ron, we're here," one of them said as he wiggled his eyebrows. Hermione just sighed and shoved at his chest playfully.

"Seriously, we're just looking for Ron."

"Oh, well he's in Ginny's room."

"Getting a good holler while he's at it."

"The poor dear, she didn't need big-nose Ron making things worse." He said this with a hand over his heart and a false-sympathetic expression on his face.

"You two shouldn't have done that to her in the first place!" Hermione admonished. Harry just stood in the background, seemingly forgotten.

"I think it looks good. Her hair needed a bit of brightening up, anyway."

"Isn't that a bit childish, even for you two? I thought you were on to bigger and better pranks."

"It isn't a bad thing to fall back on the old classics once in awhile, my friend."

"Yeah, never underestimate the value of an old-fashioned prank."

Hermione just sighed in annoyance and faint amusement.

"What are you two doing here, anyway? I thought you had your own place now."

"We do. We thought we'd just stop by and give Mum and Dad a visit."

Harry cleared his throat, not really wanting to draw attention to himself but not wanting to stand there in the shadows all day long either. They all turned to him simultaneously.

"And who is this, Hermione? A new lover, perhaps?"

"Ron will be heartbroken! How could you?"

"Don't be ridiculous; Harry and I are just friends. Harry, these two are Fred and George." She pointed to both respectively so he could recognize which is which. He wondered how long it took Hermione to finally learn how to tell them apart.

"So you're Harry! Pleasure to meet you," Fred said as he grabbed his hand and shook it a bit roughly.

"Ron has spoken so fondly of you," said George as he grabbed Harry's hand after Fred was done with it and gave it his own round of shakes. "I'm beginning to wonder if it's not Hermione who we should worry about stealing Ron's heart." He winked as Harry blanched a bit and his face heated in embarrassment.

"That's quite enough, you two," Hermione said, rescuing Harry just as he was about ready to crawl into a hole and hide there. "We're looking for Ron, so if you'd please be so kind as to get out of our way so we could find him."

"As you wish," George said and he stepped out of the way so Hermione and Harry could pass through. But just as they did this, a door banged open and two figures, a boy and a girl appeared out of it. Harry recognized the boy as Ron.

"Just get out, Ron!" the girl yelled. Harry couldn't help but notice her shockingly green hair. Bits of red could still be seen at odd patches, giving her an overall strange appearance. She turned her attention in their direction and the moment she saw Hermione and Harry, her eyes grew wide and her face turned red. She gave a squeak of embarrassment, covered her hair with her arms and ran back into her room.

"Well, we found Ron," Harry commented. Ron walked over to them and started shaking his head.

"What's her problem?"

"What did you say to her?"

"Just that the green in her hair makes her look like a giant carrot."

"That's horrible, Ron!" Hermione said.

"Whatever, let's go. I need to go into my room for a second," he waved for them to follow him down the hall. He led them to the very last door, which apparently led to his room. The door was old and worn with a chipping brass knob and a sign hanging from it that read 'Ron Weasley's Room'.

"Here we are," Ron announced. He placed his hand on the knob and gave it a turn. The door didn't budge, "Heh, it get stuck sometimes, so you just gotta give it a shove." He rammed his shoulder against the door while pulling up on the door knob. Harry and Hermione looked at each other as Ron worked on getting into his bedroom. After a few more attempts, the door flew open and Ron stumbled into his room.

"There," he panted, "welcome to my humble abode." Harry stepped in after Hermione and looked around. The first thing he noticed was the prominent amount of orange, but when the shock of that wore off and his eyes adjusted, he then noticed the number of posters decorating the walls. They seemed to be a team for some sport, one Harry wouldn't really know much about. He didn't follow many sports, seeing as he hardly watched television.

"I just need to put my bag away and grab my gardening gloves."

"You have your own pair of gardening gloves?" Hermione asked as she too looked around, though she didn't look quite as shocked at the state of the room. It appeared she had been in there before. 'For what, though,' Harry thought with a smirk.

"Yeah, it's best that way seeing as Mum is always making me pull weeds." Ron rummaged through one of his dresser drawers and pulled out a pair of worn gloves used specifically for gardening. "Got'em. Okay, let's go."

They trooped down the stairs once again, but were stopped at the foot by Mrs. Weasley, who looked quite peeved about something.

"RON WEASLEY!"

Ron flinched beside them and paled considerably.

"Y-yes, Mum?"

"WHAT HAVE YOU GONE AND DONE TO YOUR SISTER? AND WHAT'S THIS I HEAR YOU'VE DONE TO YOUR TRUCK?"

"Oh no," he whispered to them, "Looks like Mum's in a right state at the moment. You two better save yourselves. I'll see you later, okay?"

Harry couldn't help but feel relieved when he said this. Mrs. Weasley looked rather scary just then and he really didn't want to be around when she unleashed her fury on the cowering red-head next to them.

So, without a moment's hesitation, Hermione and Harry snuck around Mrs. Weasley and fled through the front door. They both heaved relieved sighs as they stood outside on the porch; the sky was turning gray with clouds, with a few patches of sunlight peeking through.

They would have to walk home now, without Ron to drive them, so they wrapped their coats around themselves tightly and began walking down the street.

It was a quiet journey to Hermione's home – but Harry didn't mind this. He was perfectly content in just enjoying the walk. He breathed in the mid-November air with content, smiling up at the sky as he breathed it out again. Everything felt rather peaceful at the moment, and how he wished things could stay this way forever. He didn't feel any particular worries, feeling only at peace with himself.

When they reached Hermione's house about an hour and a half later, a peculiar sight met them. Draco Malfoy was sitting on her front steps, his hands jammed in his coat pockets and his hair hiding his face as his head was bowed. 'What's he doing here?' He hadn't seen the boy in about a week and, even though he never said anything to Hermione, he had been thinking about him quite a bit.

The boy's head snapped up as they approached him. His eyes locked with Harry's immediately and he gave an odd sort of smile.

"Draco? What are you doing here?" Harry asked as he went and sat next to him. Hermione chose to just stand in front of them, looking as if she was feeling awkward.

"I was just looking for you. So um, do you wanna get out of here and go do something? I just gotta get away for a few hours."

Harry looked at him sympathetically – he knew how it was to want to just go somewhere for awhile and pretend nothing bad is happening. He studied the blond for a moment, taking in his appearance. He looked better than he had the week before, all of his wounds seemed to be healing at a good pace and he didn't look as tired. He looked like something was troubling him though and Harry wanted to help him.

"Sure, where do you want to go?" he asked softly.

"Anywhere, I don't care. Let's just go somewhere."

Harry looked up at Hermione and shrugged, "What do you think, Hermione?"

"Well…," she tapped her chin in thought, "My dad told me about that new ice rink downtown, we could go there. I've always wanted to try ice-skating."

"Hey, that sounds fun. What do you think, Draco?" Harry asked as he smiled and nudged Draco a bit with his shoulder, "Wanna try some ice-skating?"

Draco looked between Harry and Hermione before seemingly coming to a decision. He gave a small smile and nodded his head.

"Great! I'll go tell Mum and Dad real quick," Hermione said excitedly as she ran up the steps between them and through the door.

"So...," Harry said through the thick silence. He tapped his fingers on his thighs and chewed on his tongue.

"So," Draco repeated him, looking just as desperate to break the awkwardness between them.

Harry turned his head to face the other boy and smiled, leaning back while bringing his hands down to brace himself against the steps. His fingers brushed lightly against Draco's, which too were splayed against the cold cement. They both snatched their hands away and Harry could feel another blush coming on. He sat up straight with his hands folded in his lap and he kept his eyes averted.

When the door reopened and Hermione appeared from it, it came as a blessing to them.

"Great, I'm ready!" she said as she trotted down the steps, "What are you two waiting for? Let's go!"

Harry and Draco shared another look before getting up and following the bouncing girl. Hermione sure was excited about this – as she always was whenever they were about to do something new and fun.

It didn't take too long to reach the rink. Harry looked up at the building with awe – it was brand new and looked quite impressive. They had never had an all-year-around ice-rink before. Usually there were a few outdoor ones during the winter, but never one in a building. He had never gone ice-skating before and Hermione's excitement was beginning to rub off on him.

"We're here! Hurry up, you two!" Hermione shouted as she ran off. Harry clicked his tongue and shook his head. Grabbing Draco's hand without thinking, he ran off after the girl, dragging the other along behind him.

The three of them burst through the doors and stopped to look around in wonder. The place was huge! There was a concession center, a place to rent or buy ice-skates and one giant rink. Christmas music was gently playing from the speakers and people were walking to and fro, their voices echoing through the expanse of the building. Harry looked up and noticed a skylight looking out onto the gray sky above. He smiled as Hermione practically jumped with glee.

"This is amazing! Come on, let's go get skates!" She hurried off to that section of the building and Harry and Draco just followed helplessly. They were going to be stuck with Hermione during this and she seemed determined to make it a very scary experience.

One of the workers, a tall man dressed in his uniform, came over to and greeted them.

"Hello, is this your first time skating?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded.

"Would you like to take a small lesson on ice-skating? We have a discount for first-timers."

"Hmmm…no, I think we'll just figure it out for ourselves, thanks."

"No problem, miss. Now, you'll be needing skates of course. Buying or renting?"

"Renting."

"Hmm, okay I'll need your sizes."

"Well, I'm a six in women's and Harry is six in men's. I remembered because we have the same number size."

"I'm not five, Hermione. I can remember my own shoe size."

"Oh, don't make a fuss. And I'm sorry, but I don't know yours, Draco."

"It would be creepy if you did," Harry said.

"Ten," Draco said plainly. The worker nodded and wrote it down.

"I'll be right back with your skates."

Hermione whistled and grinned at Draco, "You have some big tootsies."

"I'm tall, what do you expect?"

"That's true; at least you don't have small, girly feet like Harry."

"I do not!" Harry protested but tucked his feet under himself nonetheless.

"Aww, is Harry embarrassed by his little feetsies?"

"Yes, if you continue calling them 'feetsies'!" Hermione giggled at him. "And besides, six is medium, not small, I'll have you know."

"Whatever you say, Harry," Hermione said and looked up as the worker returned with their skates in hand.

"Let's see…ten," he read off and handed the black pair to Draco. "Six in women's." The brown pair went to Hermione, "and six in men's." The last pair, which happened to be white, was handed to Harry.

After they all took off their shoes and slipped their feet into their skates, the worker showed them how to lace them up properly. When that was done, they placed their belongings in a safe place and walked (rather awkwardly on their new footwear) toward the rink.

The cold air blasted them unwelcomingly as they stood around the entrance to the rink. Shivers and goosebumps ran down Harry's arms and back as he looked at the gleaming white ice.

"I think we should have taken those lessons," Harry said with a bit of trepidation. The ice looked very slippery. He looked up and watched as other people glided perfectly across the smooth ice – but a few them looked really wobbly and unsure of themselves.

"Nonsense," Hermione said. She was the first of them to step out onto the ice. She took a few moments to adjust herself, but miraculously she got the hang of it and skated out toward the center of the ice elegantly. 'She's always been a fast learner,' Harry thought with jealously.

"You first," Draco said as he stepped aside to let Harry through next. Harry glared at him but took a deep breath and walked out onto the ice anyway. It was not as easy as Hermione made it look; his feet stumbled and slipped and he had to grab onto the edge to steady himself. He looked over and watched as Draco repeated the same process as him. He was having even more trouble than Harry had.

"Come on, you've got it," Harry said and he reached out a hand for Draco to grab. Draco reached for it and clasped hands with his. Harry helped pull him towards the edge so he could grab hold of it as well. They let go of hands once he did and they stared at each other.

"Figures Hermione would pick something like this for us to do," Harry said as he looked down at his feet. He worked on straightening them up.

"What are you waiting for?" Hermione said as she stopped in front of them, "this is great! Get your butts out here." She skated away again and performed a little spin to show off her new-found talent.

"Show off," Harry muttered as he let go of his holding and followed Hermione out with not an ounce of grace.

"It's easy, Harry," Hermione called while skating backwards, "it's just like dancing."

"Dancing on dangerous ice," Harry mumbled as he straightened himself up a bit. He kept his arms outstretched a bit to keep his balance and he moved his feet inches at a time. He felt Draco right behind him, struggling just as much. The blades of their skates clanked against the frozen water and cut into it as they started getting more and more used to this new experience. It was sort of like dancing; only Harry was used to dancing in his bare feet, not on thin pieces of metal.

"This isn't so bad," Harry commented. He dropped his arms and straightened himself fully, "It just takes some getting used to. What do you think, Draco?"

Harry turned around to face the other boy, but he must have done so too quickly because he stumbled and began to fall. He tried to reach out to grab onto Draco but his feet slipped underneath him and he fell to his butt.

He heard laughter ring out from behind him and he looked up. Hermione skated to a stop beside him, her body shaking with laughter.

"I won't lie to you, Harry," she said between laughs, "Everyone saw that."

"Shut up; and someone help me, please." Draco reached down to help him up. Harry extended his arm upwards and Draco wrapped his hands around his arm. He hauled him up and Harry fought to keep his balance. He placed both hands on Draco's arms as he leaned against him.

"There," Draco breathed. "Steady?"

"I think so." Harry moved a bit to test his balance, but it turned out that he wasn't as steady as he thought. His feet slipped apart and before he knew it, he was scrabbling to keep his hold on Draco. This only caused to bring them both down as Draco slipped backwards from Harry's weight. The two of them landed on the ground in a tangle. More laughter came from Hermione's direction as she continued to have the time of her life watching them struggle.

Harry and Draco shared a look and identical grins appeared on their faces. As Hermione was too busy laughing at them to really take notice of what they were doing, they both crawled over to where Hermione was standing; without a moment's hesitation, they grabbed onto her legs and broke her balance. She came crashing down on top of them heavily.

"What the hell was that for?" Hermione screeched.

"There, now we're even," Harry said as he wormed his way out of the pile and sat down on the ice. He was panting and grinning at Hermione's sour face. However, their fun was short-lived. One of the security personnel was heading in their direction.

"You three," he said as he skated up to them, "No horse playing allowed as it is dangerous. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Good going, Hermione," Harry said as he struggled to his feet.

"Me? You two are the ones that tripped me!"

"Only because you were acting so smug."

"I was not!"

"Was too!"

"Not!"

"So was," Harry said. They walked from the ice rink and over to the rental department. He sat down with a sigh, wanting to get out of his uncomfortable skates. He untied the tightly wound strings and pulled his feet from their entrapment. He wiggled his toes in relief and pulled his worn trainers on.

"I can't believe we got kicked out on our first visit," Hermione said, "I am so embarrassed."

"Oh lighten up," Harry said as he threw an arm around Hermione's shoulder, "We had fun, didn't we?"

"Well…yeah."

"Then it was worth getting kicked out for."

"I guess so," Hermione said. Harry knew she wasn't the kind of person who liked getting in trouble for breaking the rules. "Well, I need to get home. Are you coming over tonight?"

"Yeah, but I think I'll walk Draco home first."

"You want me to come too?"

"Nah, that's okay. You go on ahead so your parents don't worry."

"Okay, Harry. I'll see you later. Bye, Draco," Hermione waved to them as she broke off in the opposite direction.

"Thanks for this, Harry," Draco said as they began walking.

"It's no problem, really."

"Um…I'm not ready to go home yet," Draco announced.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, do you mind if we make a quick stop at the hospital. I want to say good-night to my mother."

"Definitely. That's fine with me. I'm in no particular hurry to get back anyway."

Harry looked down and just caught the sudden movement of Draco's hand. It looked as if the boy wanted to take hold of his hand but had decided against it. Harry didn't know if he was disappointed about that or not. His heart fluttered a bit and he felt a churning in his stomach as he walked close to the blonde. Their journey was one of silence and they reached the hospital in what felt like only seconds to Harry.

They entered the warmth of the building, the sliding doors closing shut behind them. Harry looked around at the gleaming white walls and floors and shuddered as he remembered the last time he had been there. Off to the side, an elderly man was playing a solemn tune on the piano patients sometimes use. The music echoed off the walls and set an ominous feeling in the atmosphere.

Their footsteps bounced off the empty hallways as they made their way down to Draco's mother's room. Draco was silent beside him and Harry couldn't help but think something didn't feel quite right. They ascended the stairs to the third floor where the cancer ward was. Harry looked out the windows and down at the ground below where doctors, patients and visitors were walking about in the dimming sunlight. The setting sun cast golden light through the windows and lighted their path as they continued to walk.

"Something's not right," Draco whispered as his fists clenched. "I can feel it. Something's wrong." He suddenly broke off into a run and all Harry could do was hurry behind him. They shot around a corner and ran down another seemingly endless hallway. They were suddenly stopped by a woman in a white coat appearing from one of the rooms.

Draco halted in front of her and his eyes shot back and forth between the room and the doctor.

"Mr. Malfoy," she said with surprise as she looked up at him, "I was just about to phone you."

"What's wrong?" Draco demanded. Harry stood a ways back, feeling dread begin to seep within his own body. "Why did you need to call me?"

The doctor's face went solemn as she tried to keep eye contact with the frantic boy.

"Well?" he almost shouted hysterically. "Tell me!"

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Malfoy," the doctor said as she reached out an arm to comfort the boy.

"No!" Draco shouted as he backed away from her. "NO!"

The woman's arm dropped by her side and she lowered her head in sympathy. Draco pushed her out of the way and ran to the room she had just exited. He suddenly stopped in the doorway. He grabbed hold of the door frame as he looked like his knees were about to give out underneath him. Harry could only look on helplessly as he watched the boy's heart shatter into a million pieces. He could feel his own heart bleed for him.

He continued to watch as the boy shakily walked into the room, almost with hesitance. It was as if he was afraid to walk into that room, walk right into the reality of the situation. When Draco disappeared through the doorway, Harry just stood there, rooted to the spot. When the sounds of sobbing reached his ears, however, he took a few tentative steps forward. He continued to walk until he was at the doorway himself. He looked on at the scene with saddened eyes.

Draco was bent over his mother's still form, his head resting on her unmoving chest as his hands clenched her hospital gown. The setting sun's golden light was fading fast through the window opposite them and darkness settled in on the two forms in the room. The echoing sound of Draco's heartbreaking sobs filled the entire hospital, causing tears to fall from Harry's own eyes. He averted his sight from them and wiped his face clean. He wanted to walk up to the boy and give him some form of comfort, but he found his legs unable to move. So instead, he just stood there, looking away as Draco's cries continued throughout the still and empty night.

* * *

Author's Note: Hey guys! Long time, no see! I'm so so sooooo sorry that this took so long to get out. Unfortunately, I had been stuck in the hospital for a little while to get some tests and a procedure done. And now I can't do any dancing or lifting or well...anything lest I wish to bleed to death. Also, chemotherapy has been taking up some time in my life, so I'm really finding NO time whatsoever to write it seems. 

BUT I always prevail. And here is chapter twenty! I hope I did alright with it, considering it took so long to write. Please review, and thank you, thank you for all your reviews!


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

"_The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want._

_He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:_

_He leadeth me beside still waters._

_He restoreth my soul:_

_He leadeth me in paths of righteousness for His name's sake._

_And__, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of Death,_

_I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me._

_Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies:_

_Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over._

_Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life:_

_And I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever."_

_-------_

The world seemed faded; the sky above him seemed grayer, the grass beneath his feet didn't seem quite as green, and the people surrounding him were just a blurry sea of black. He kept his shoulders hunched and his eyes cast downward as the priest continued to speak – he spoke vacant words of sympathy and he spoke of his mother's life as if he knew her. Tears filled his vision as he furiously tried to keep them at bay; there was an incessant ache in his heart and how he sorely wished he could just go numb – that way, he would no longer need to feel it. Daring to bring his head up, he looked around at the small crowd of people attending the service to give last good-byes and apologetic words to the survivors.

His eyes picked out the few familiar faces: Severus stood there, his hair pulled back into a pony-tail, his dark coat covering his body from neck to ankles, and his sallow face held in a blank expression. Then, standing just a few feet behind Severus was Draco's father, Lucius. Like Severus, the man was wearing a dark overcoat, but instead of holding a tidy appearance, he looked a wreck. His hair was loose around his face, his eyes almost nothing but dark, tired circles. On his face was an odd expression – his eyes were focused intently on the casket where Narcissa now lay, his lips were formed into a tight line and his hands hung dejectedly by his sides.

Draco felt that faint anger that always rose within him whenever he saw his father. But it wasn't as fierce as it used to be; right now, he felt too weak and too desperately hopeless to feel anything beyond despair. Right now, he couldn't spare enough precious energy to be properly angry at Lucius. The man was all he had left now, it seemed. But he figured it wouldn't be long before his father became nothing but a man in a gutter holding pitifully onto his last bottle of drink. Homeless, broken and defeated.

Averting his eyes away from the man that had destroyed his family, his vision swept across all the other nameless people until he spotted another figure. This one was standing a good deal away from the rest, as if he was just an outside spectator. It was Harry. He was looking in Draco's direction, appearing to be unsure if whether or not he should really be there. He was wearing a dark gray jumper over faded jeans in a failed attempt at looking presentable. His teeth worried his bottom lip and his head was cocked in a sympathetic and questioning manner. It appeared as if he was asking a silent question – should I be here?

Draco dropped his gaze to the soggy grass and sighed quietly. He didn't want Harry to see him right now; not while he was in such a despicable state. He knew he was avoiding him, but he just didn't want to be with anybody. He wanted to figure things out on his own, find out what he was doing with his life. This turn of events sort of confused his perspective on life. He had tried as hard as he could, and he still failed. Did that mean it was useless trying at all? Should he just give up and be done with it?

When the priest finished speaking, people began taking turns placing flowers on the top of casket. Draco hung back, wanting to be the last one to approach his mother, wanting to be the last one to say goodbye. As the line progressed, his breathing became harsher, more erratic. His eyes blurred on and off and his head was swimming with dizziness. His hand clutched the delicate rose in his palm and he swallowed heavily. All he could hear was the sounds of his own inhale and exhale of his breathing as he got closer and closer to his dead mother. That's what she was, after all; it was a harsh realization but a truth nonetheless.

'Just do it,' he willed himself as he stopped in front of the glossy, brown casket already laden with other flowers. But he just stood there, staring down at it, trying to understand what this all was. Why was he standing there? Why were there people around him, tears in their eyes as they comforted each other? Why was his mother cold and lifeless, lying and waiting to be put into the earth? Why did this happen?

Scrunching his face to keep any tears from forming, he gently laid his flower down on top of the others. But instead of taking his hand away, he rested his palm on the smooth wooden surface of his mother's final resting place.

"Goodbye, Mother," he whispered so only he could hear. A few tears rolled down his cheeks and splashed onto the casket before he hurriedly turned and walked away from the burial site.

"Draco," a voice called out to him. It was Severus. But Draco did not want to his hear his words of solace. No. He did not want to see the pity in the man's eyes. Pity. The same pity he always received from people, known and unknown alike. For what was pity but a feeling of guilt and a morbid sense of superiority over someone less fortunate? No, he did not want that.

So he ran. That was what people did in such situations after all. They run. They run when things get too hard and too unbearable. It is the easiest thing to do, after all. To face the truth is to accept it and he was not ready to accept it.

People gave him curious and agonizingly pitying glances as he dashed past. His coat flapped behind him and his tears continued to stream down his face, chilling in the wind whipping past him. As he ran past Harry, he couldn't help but feel his heart stop for a split moment. Harry was standing there, watching him with his sad green eyes.

"Draco, please…" Harry called to him but Draco did not want to hear. He just wanted to run. So he continued without a glance behind him.

Running is a cowardly action, he knew. But he was okay with that. He didn't mind being a coward if it meant escaping reality for as long as possible. He ran through the wrought iron gates of the cemetery and down the streets.

Run, and don't stop. His mind kept screaming this at him over and over. If he stopped, it would all catch up. Catch up to him and come crashing down on him. So he kept running, despite knowing that this was a race he couldn't win.

He didn't know where he was going; all he knew was that he couldn't stop. His legs carried him further and further away. He ran through crowded streets, ignoring angry shouts and protests of the people he bumped into to. Why should he care that he interrupted their boring daily activities? Did they not know that he was a suffering soul, bent on escaping to somewhere far out of reach?

Of course they didn't. He was all alone. As he always had been. They couldn't understand his pain; only through experience can one understand something, and no one has ever experience his pain. He was so convinced that he was alone in his suffering.

"Draco!"

That voice. That voice that sent shivers up his spine. He hated to hear it, especially now, while he was in his darkest hour. Harry was following him. Harry was chasing after him; it was obvious Harry wanted to make things better, make them right. Fix this mess. But how could he? He was just a boy; he was just a lost boy, so like himself. How can the lost help the lost?

Draco sped up, desperate to lose the boy following him. He wanted to be alone; he didn't want to talk to Harry, he didn't want to see him or feel him or be near him. He wanted to be alone in his misery.

For now, he focused on running as far away as possible. It was hard to focus on all the pain when he was already too immersed in the strenuous act of running. It was just him, the burning of his lungs and the pumping of his heart. The world whisked by but he paid it no mind. The world can wait; right now…he just wanted to pretend the world didn't even exist.

He let his legs carry him; he wasn't even sure where he was going. Usually, in times of crisis, he went to Severus's house. But he knew that was not possible right now. Severus couldn't help him now.

There was another stinging in the back of his eyes, but he just sped up, bent on losing both his pursuer and the excruciating pain jabbing at his very soul.

"Please, Draco!" Harry shouted as Draco could hear him catching up. The boy certainly could run fast, faster than Draco ever could on a normal day. But this was not a normal day; today a fierce adrenaline was guiding him, forcing him along. "Stop running!"

That wasn't possible. It wasn't even an option. So he just continued, dashing through the crowds and around corners in hopes of escaping the boy. He was running faster than he had ever in his life and it was almost as if the wind was carrying him, carrying him away from his torment.

But he knew that this rush of energy would not last. Before he knew it, he was stumbling to his hands and knees, harsh bursts of air coming from his mouth. He stared at the ground as a mixture of sweat and tears dripped from his face and onto the ground, darkening it as it seeped into the dirt. The tiny rocks dug unforgiving into his knees as his fingers clenched into the earth. The dirt filled his fingernails and rubbed against the tender skin annoyingly, but he did not care. His body continued to rack with the shaking sobs that he tried so hard to keep back.

'Just breathe,' he told himself, 'just breathe.' He took a few deep, calming breaths. Soon, his shaking subsided and his head cleared a bit. He sat back on his knees and wiped his face clean with the back of his sleeve. Feeling a bit more relieved, he turned his face skyward and sighed. The sun was peeking through the dense blanket of clouds, sharing a little light on his time of need. He let the cold, moist air caress his face as his hands continued to dig into the rocky dirt. He was desperately trying to cling onto some resemblance of a stable world. All that he received in return was a few cuts on his palms from the jagged rocks.

'I'm breaking apart. This is pathetic.' Looking around at his surroundings for the first time since he had collapsed there, Draco noticed that he was towards the edge of the city; the same place Harry had brought him to all that time ago. 'Had I really ran that far?' He looked around the empty stretch of land looking for any signs of the other. It seems he really had lost Harry in the chase.

The sound of a nearby church bell made his eyes snap towards the direction it was coming from. They landed on the small, old fashioned church surrounded by the stone wall. Raising himself up from his knees slowly, he released the handfuls of rocks. They clattered to the ground around his feet as he continued to look at the church.

'This is where people come to find comfort when they're in pain,' Draco thought as he stood there. The wind continued to nip by him and he folded his arms over his chest to try to retain some warmth. 'I guess it's worth a try.'

His feet crunched over the gravel as he made his way up the church path. The old building seemed so ominous and cold. Each step he took, he felt a sinking, nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. Would he be welcome in such a place? He didn't know who or what God was, and he wasn't even sure he believed in God in the first place. But he found himself with no other place to turn to – was this the last place to even hope to find some semblance of peace?

He ghosted his palm over the little plaque by the entrance, re-reading the little engraved words before turning to the door in front of him. The circular stained glass window high above it was glittering in the peeking sunlight. He rested his hand on the chipping brass doorknob and opened the door.

The door opened up to a nicely kept foyer. There was a place that guests could sign in, a table that contained a vase of artificial flowers and a crucifixion hung nailed to the wooden wall; he quickly turned his head away from it – why would anyone want to lay their eyes on something like that?

Walking further in, he made sure to look all around him carefully – it was almost as if he was waiting for someone to pop out of the shadows and demand the heathen to leave this house of worship. He was sure he was dirty in the eyes of those who claimed themselves to be children of God.

He walked into a small gathering area that was mostly vacant save for one round stained-glass window on the far wall. It depicted a hand reaching out to the sun with a white dove flying above it. He looked down at his own hands for a brief moment before dropping them to his sides again. There were a few chairs lined up against the walls and a table lined with Bibles and Hymn books. There was a door to his left, and he assumed it opened to the stairs that lead to the church tower.

He walked across the tiny room, his footfalls echoing empty through it. He headed toward the open archway that led into the worship room. When he entered it, the first thing he noticed was that there were already a few people there. Some were sitting in the pews with their heads bowed, while others opted to sit on their knees with their hands folded on the pew in front of them. There were also several high windows in this room, providing the only light save for a few candles that were lit around it.

The next thing he noticed was that while it was quiet there, he could make out the faint whisperings from the people around him. He could make out snatches of their whispers – they were prayers, desperate and hopeful to the God they couldn't see.

"Please, Lord, please help me."

"Oh, God, save my son."

"Help me to forget, oh Lord. Grant me strength."

Draco felt like he was eavesdropping on personal conversations, even if it was that he could only see one participant. He wondered if these people had their prayers answered or if they were just crying out their wishes to an empty room.

He chose a pew towards the very back and sat down at the end in a corner. He looked around, feeling awkward and out of place. He was still very aware of the whisperings going on around him. Taking a cue from everyone else, he folded his hands in his lap and bowed his head. He decided that he didn't feel quite as dumb sitting in a seat as he would have sitting on his knees.

'Okay, so how do I do this?' he questioned to himself as he stared down at the hands folded in his lap. 'I suppose I should close my eyes.' Letting his eyelids shut and the darkness to surround him, he tried to let the words come to him.

'I don't know what to say.' He couldn't help but notice how completely blank his mind was. He felt so stupid trying to talk to something that he was almost completely sure didn't exist in the first place. 'But I've tried everything else. I've got no where else to go.'

He sat for a few more minutes, trying not to pay attention to the whispers that were beginning to overwhelm him. They were all so desperate and sad. Was prayer really just a hopeless soul's last refuge?

'This is so dumb. Why should I talk to some God that doesn't even care about me? How could he let these things happen to me? If you're so great, God, then why did my mother die? Did I do something wrong to make you forsake me? Perhaps you like to watch me suffer. Are you listening to me, God? Why don't you answer me? Why did this happen, God? Why is my mother dead and my good-for-nothing father still alive and kicking? Answer me God, answer me!'

No answer. Nothing but the continued whispered prayers of everyone around him. Nothing but silence in his own mind as he waited half-hopingly for some kind of answer. Any answer.

'Why don't you answer me, God? Are you too good and holy to listen to the prayers of a lost soul?'

Still no answer. A feeling of anger and hurt was bubbling up inside of him at this feeling of abandonment. He had been abandoned by a so-called loving and benevolent God.

'Answer me, please answer me. Oh, God, just answer…please. I need this so badly.'

"ANSWER ME!" he yelled out the last words, his voice echoing around the almost-empty prayer room. The whispers finally stopped and everyone looked up at him with confusion and fear. He was breathing harshly as he looked up at the ceiling of the chapel. His hands balled into fists and his chest was about ready to burst. An overwhelming feeling of anger and sadness flooded his entire body.

"Excuse me, son, are you alright?"

Draco looked to his side and saw a middle-aged man clutching a Bible to his chest.

"Are you in some kind of trouble?"

Draco just continued to look at him – his eyes were mostly focused on the silver chain hanging from the man's neck. The little cross dangling from it glinted in the sunlight from the windows. It was almost as if the thing was glaring at him.

He also noticed how the man continued to hold onto his Bible as if it were some kind of safety blanket. It was so painfully obvious that this man clung to his faith so strongly.

"Son?"

Draco's eyes shot up to the stranger's face – he was looking at him with concern and pity. Pity. That damned pity.

Shaking his head, he swallowed and backed away, never taking his eyes off of the man.

"No," he croaked. He continued to back up, painfully aware of the fact that those damn whispers picked up again. They were everywhere, so full of pain. Every second that he continued to remain in this place, the longer these people's pain would continue to touch him. "No."

He finally got to the door and bolted through it. He couldn't stay there any longer, or else it would drive him mad.

He ran through the front door and out into the open, breathing a huge sigh of relief. Birds twittered around the trees and the grass and leaves rustled in the breeze. He pressed his face to the door of the church and continued to breathe through his noise. He banged his fists on the large door a few times, trying to get a reign on his anger. Once he felt calm enough, he started backing away from the church, keeping his eyes on it as he did so. The farther away he backed, the more the cross on top of the bell-tower came into view. It was large and seemed to bear down on him. It seemingly loomed over the church as he stared up at it.

'What have I done to deserve this?' was his last thought before he averted his eyes from the frightening sight before him. 'I'm sorry.'

He backed up the last step out of the church gate and turned away from it. It caught him by surprise when he felt a solid form collide with him. He gasped and took a startled step backwards.

"Draco," Harry whispered, his worried eyes looking him over. "I…"

"No!" Draco said. How had the boy found him? Did he follow him here? "Leave me alone." And then he dodged around Harry and ran again. He wanted to be left alone! Why couldn't he understand that? He heard the pursuing steps of Harry behind him. He gave a burst of speed but he knew he couldn't last. So much of his energy was drained – both emotionally and physically. He was already slowing down.

It wasn't long before he felt a pair of thin arms wrap around his middle and stop him from going any further. They held him tightly as a firm body pressed itself into his back. A head rested on his shoulder blades snugly as the arms continued to hold him close.

"Stop running," Harry whispered. "It's alright now, just stop running."

He felt Harry's chest rise and fall against him. He could feel the other boy's rapid heart beat thudding softly against his back.

"Please, don't run from me," Harry said, his voice muffled as his face was pressed against Draco's shirt. A warm, wet feeling seeped through the cloth and he realized that Harry was crying.

"I'm so, so sorry, Draco." Draco just went limp in Harry's arms as he hung his head. Harry's arms only tightened around him as they sunk to the ground together. They sat there together with Harry wrapped around him and his head resting against Draco's back. He could still feel the faint yet steady beating of Harry's heart against him and for some reason it calmed him.

It was silent – the only sounds were that of the sighing of the wind, the rustling of the grass and their breathing mingling with each other's. Draco looked forward, not saying anything while staring at the horizon. He could make out the highway in the far distance where the edge of the city lay. The sun was already beginning to set as the brightness of it broke apart the clouds. It shined with all of its majesty as the sky turned golden.

"It hurts," he said at last, figuring he was speaking to Harry but he wasn't really sure.

"Shh," Harry consoled as he nuzzled his head against Draco. "I'm here now."

He felt Harry's fingers tracing comforting circles on his back and soon he felt his body go completely lax.

Harry began to hum a soothing tune, and he could feel the vibrations of the boy's chest against him. He closed his eyes and let the soft melody fill him up. Harry's voice was light and beautiful and it let him imagine, that just for a moment, the world of people and evil did not exist. Just this world, the one Harry's voice created for him, existed. In his mind, he imagined a different place – a place full of trees and flowers and beautiful blue skies. A place where everything moved with Harry's song in an elegant sort of dance. And nothing else existed there.

When the melody was finished and Harry's voice died, Draco opened his eyes.

"Why do you suppose bad things happen, Harry?" He wondered if Harry could be the answer to his prayers.

"Maybe because they have to," Harry said and he felt the shorter boy shrug. "Maybe the world needs to be unfair so we can learn something from it. We can't learn anything if the world is easy."

"What are we supposed to learn?"

"Who we are, I suppose. Through suffering, we start gaining knowledge of what kind of people we really are. It really makes us sit down and think about what we need to do in life. And it brings us closer to those we really love."

Draco looked down. It still didn't make sense.

"Just don't think about it," Harry said softly, "not thinking about it makes it easier to bear."

"Is that what you do? Just pretend it doesn't exist?" Draco asked. "Is that not called willful ignorance?"

"I don't pretend it doesn't exist," Harry answered. "I just like to think about the good things more than the bad things. It makes the world seem like a better place."

"Seem being the keyword," Draco said bitterly.

"Hush now. Just empty your mind of all of your pain."

Draco unlocked the arms around his waist and turned to Harry abruptly. He held the boy's wrists in his hands as he took a good look at him. Harry was looking up at him curiously.

"How can you say that? Do you honestly think it's that easy? I can't just do that!"

"You can try."

Draco snorted, "Easy for you to say."

"It is not," Harry said quietly. "But I never give up hope that there is some good in the world. Focusing too much on the pain only makes it hurt even more."

Draco fell quiet as he pondered on how hopeful and innocent Harry was. The boy was going to be severely disappointed someday.

"I just don't wanna talk about it," he said after awhile.

"Then we don't have to talk about it," Harry said with a smile. "Let's just sit and not talk."

Draco nodded and sat next to Harry. They watched the sky together, not a single word passing between them. He let his eyes travel to the other; the boy was sitting there, his legs crossed and his arms supporting him as he leaned back. His black hair fell into his pale face and his glasses glinted in the light.

He felt compelled to be closer to this thing of innocence and mystery. So he scooted closer to Harry and before he knew it, he had his head resting on the other boy's shoulder. He blamed it on the fact that he was seeking comfort and Harry was so willingly offering it. He felt, rather than saw, the boy smile as Harry rested his head atop Draco's.

It was different, Draco decided, being this close to someone. But it was a good kind of different. Gliding his hand across the prickly grass, he felt it nudge against Harry's. Harry startled a bit and looked down before he too placed his on top of Draco's. He then gave it a reassuring squeeze – a silent promise that he was here. It allowed some comfort and gave him rest. Maybe this was his answer; maybe Harry was the answer to his prayers.

"It hurts," he whispered again.

"I know," Harry answered back.

* * *

Author's Note: Here it is! Just like I promised! Quite a short one too, but hopefully its quality is good enough. Know that in this chapter I am not bashing on any religion, seeing as I am very strong in my Christian faith, nor am I trying to force belief on anyone. I just think that everyone goes through a time in their life when they need to question God's existance, especially in times of tragedy. The verse in the beginning of the chapter is Psalm 23, which is very commonly said at funerals. 

Anyway, thank you for all of your reviews! Please review again.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

His sweat-slicked body twisted and turned as his feet glided across the floor. His hair whipped around in his face with each leap and spin he accomplished. His elbows were bruised and agitated from being landed on one too many times. His knees were scraped and bleeding and his feet were begging for a rest but he knew he could not stop. There was a stitch in his side as his lungs screamed in agony; but now was not the time for rest. He was so close! So close to getting where he needed to be.

When he finally came to a stop, he kept his head bowed as his chest heaved and droplets of sweat rolled from his forehead and onto the wood beneath his feet.

"That was great, Harry!" Hermione applauded as she walked over to him, "you seem to have your part down really well."

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry said as soon as he caught his breath. He was beyond his limits and overly exhausted. They had had dance lessons with Miss Miranda earlier that day, and though they had been quite worn out by the end of that (no surprises there), Hermione had insisted on staying later and practicing their routine: ("We must be perfect! It's only days away now!" she had exclaimed, nearly hysterical).

It was true; the day of their performance was looming over them like a cloud and Harry couldn't help but feel the nerves starting to take over. It seemed just like a moment ago they had only learned they would be participating. And, here, now, it was coming up on them frighteningly fast.

"Take a breather, Harry," Hermione said as she rubbed his shoulder, "you deserve it."

Harry nodded and trudged over to the far-side bench. Ron and Draco were already occupying one end of it – Ron with his headphones on full blast and packet of corn-nuts in hand and Draco slouching dejectedly with his eyes downcast.

Harry felt his heart go out for the boy once more; it was so sad to see him like that. Draco had clung to Harry after the funeral as if he was his only life-line. He went everywhere Harry went and did only what Harry did. Harry figured that he was just going through a phase; perhaps from a fear of abandonment and loss. He sympathized with Draco and let himself be as available as possible to him.

Sitting down heavily next to the blond boy, Harry gave him a heart-felt smile. Draco looked up at him and returned the smile, though not as enthusiastically. Harry let his smile falter a little – though Draco had looked like this ever since his mother's death, it never failed to shock Harry to see. There were hideous dark circles under the boy's bloodshot eyes. His complexion was paler than usual and his greasy, unwashed hair fell into his face, mostly covering it.

Harry shook his head slightly and tried to perk up again; it would not due to be sad around Draco. It would only make matters worse. He scooted over to the other and nudged him with his shoulder to gain his attention again.

"So, what did you think?" Harry asked. Normally, he'd asked how he was doing, but Harry had since learned that such a question did not go down well when dealing with Draco. So instead, he usually turned the topics to lighter subjects.

"You looked very good," Draco commented with a dark, heavy tone to his voice. Harry knew that meant he had not really been paying all the much attention and was still weighed down by his personal woes.

"Thanks," Harry replied nonetheless. Sometimes it was easier just to pretend along with Draco, "So, you're still gonna be at the performance, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," Draco answered.

"Good. So what do you want to do today?"

Draco just shrugged in response. Harry raised his eyes to Hermione, silently begging for help. Sometimes, he just did not feel like dealing with Draco all by himself. She just stared back and pretended not to understand his plea. 'Fat load of help she is.'

"Do you wanna dance a little?" Harry suggested, a smile forming on his face again.

"I can't dance."

"You're just saying that, come on…give it a try."

"Not…today, Harry."

"Oh, but…"

"Please," Draco said with a begging tone.

"Alright, fine, but you owe me a dance," Harry said and winked at the boy. He felt a sort of triumph when a small smile tugged at the corners of Draco's lips. It was better than nothing.

It was about then that Ron decided to butt into the conversation.

"SO, ARE YOU GUYS DONE YET?" Harry jumped at how loudly Ron was speaking.

"Ron, stop yelling," Hermione said as she approached them.

"WHAT?" Ron yelled. Hermione rolled her eyes and picked up one end of the headphones so she could speak into his hear.

"I said, STOP YELLING."

Ron jumped back at this and cowered away from the girl. He pulled off his headphones, allowing them to hang around his neck, and he rubbed his ear.

"Geez, Hermione, no need to scream."

Hermione just sighed and placed her hands on her hips.

"Anyway, to answer your question, I think we're about ready. Harry?"

"Yeah, I'm exhausted."

"About time too, I think my butt's about to fall off," Ron said as he stood up, stretched, and rubbed his bottom obnoxiously.

"Go be annoying somewhere else, Ron," Hermione said as she raised an eyebrow at the boy, "it's not like we're forcing you to be here."

"If you've forgotten, I'M the only one here with a car; which means that you do need me!"

"Ugh, whatever," Hermione grumbled as she began packing up all of her stuff. Harry went about doing the same thing; he threw his water bottle in the bag after taking a long swig of it. He pulled out his hair-brush and gave his hair a few attempts at taming before that too joined the rest of his items. He pulled on his trainers and jumper and swung his bag on his shoulder, signaling that he was ready to go.

"I'm ready," he announced and looked down at Draco. "Are you ready, Draco?" he asked softly.

Draco looked up slowly before nodding and lowering his eyes again. He stood up and went to stand by Harry. He could feel Draco's hand searching for his own.

'He's like a lost little puppy,' Harry thought fondly before taking the other's larger hand in his own.

They headed down the stairs and out the door. The blinding sunlight met Harry's eyes, after having gotten used to being in the dark dance studio. But he didn't mind it so much after he got used to it; the sun was rarely out during this part of the year, and when it was, it was a blessing. It was cold outside but the suns rays provided some warmth and Harry breathed it in.

"It's a nice day, isn't it, Draco?" Harry asked him, trying to spur the boy into conversation again.

"Yeah," he replied absently. Harry sighed; it was worth a shot at any rate.

They all piled into Ron's old truck again; Hermione, who took pity on Harry for always having to be the one sitting on their laps, decided to switch with him on intervals. Since it had been his turn on the way there, it was Hermione's turn to sit on his lap. He didn't particularly mind it, but sometimes he wished he would've just kept his big mouth shut. He didn't mind so much the idea of having an excuse to sit on Draco's lap anymore.

He kept sneaking glances over at Draco during their bumpy ride home. The boy was just staring out the window without even sparing a glance in his direction. Harry wished he would just look at him, once, without a dead look in his eyes. He tried not to let it show, but this whole ordeal was taking its toll on him as well. It was never easy to see someone you care about in such a state; especially when they won't even communicate with you.

Ron's disco music was the only thing that accompanied them on the way home; everyone was silent, lost in their own thoughts (except for Ron, who was lost in the music…as usual). When they finally arrived at the Granger home, it wasn't a moment too soon. Harry couldn't wait to get out of the crowded and suffocating space that was Ron's truck.

They all piled out of the truck in a tangle of limbs and personal items. Harry tripped over Hermione's bag strap, she having forgotten to put it in the back like usual, and untangled his arm from the seatbelt before he was finally free.

"I'd like to be able to get out of that car without having to do acrobatics, just once," Harry commented.

"You're just overreacting," Ron said with a smile as he patted the hood of his truck.

Harry shook his head and looked over to Draco, who had sat back down in the truck with his feet hanging out the door. He was staring down at the road with that blank look of his again. Harry sighed and tapped his shoulder. Draco started and looked up at him questioningly.

"Want to go in?" he asked him. Draco nodded and Harry held out his hand for the other to take. They walked up the steps to the Granger house behind Hermione and Ron. When they walk in, the first thing that hit Harry was a delicious aroma coming from the kitchen; this caused his stomach to rumble quite loudly. It had been awhile since he had last eaten.

They all trooped into the kitchen where they saw Mr. Granger preparing something in a pot over the stove. Mrs. Granger was sitting at the table with a small paper-back book in her hand and her feet propped up on another chair. She looked up and smiled when they walked in.

"How was practice?" she asked cheerfully as she set her book down and waved Hermione over to her.

"Great, Mum, we've almost got the entire routine down."

"That's great, Honey, I'm so excited for you two."

"Thanks, Mum," Hermione said as she sat down at the table.

"I bet all of you are hungry," Mr. Granger said as he stirred the contents of the pot with a metal spoon, before giving it a taste, "sit down; lunch is just about ready."

They all took seats around the circular table and sat in silence, the occasional sound of Mr. Granger shaking ingredients into the pot and Mrs. Granger turning a page of her book filled the void.

Harry looked over at Draco, who was drawing on the table with his finger absentmindedly. He noticed a few tears roll down his cheeks and splash onto the table. He reached his hand under the table and grabbed Draco's hand, giving it a little squeeze. He began rubbing circles on it comfortingly with his thumb, giving him the silent reminder that he was here.

He was interrupted by a bowl being placed down in front of him, along with a spoon and napkin. He looked up at Mr. Granger, who was now ladling hot, creamy carrot soup into their bowls. Harry gave him a smile of thanks and picked up his spoon. He glanced at Draco, who was just staring down at his bowl…again. Harry squeezed is hand again as a gentle reminder to eat. Draco seemed to take the hint because he then picked up his spoon and began eating small amounts of his soup at a time.

Harry spooned mouthfuls of the meal into his mouth, loving the slight burning feeling of it as it slid down his throat and into his stomach. It assuaged his hunger pains and relaxed his tired mind.

"So, kids, have any other plans for the day?" Mr. Granger asked as he took a seat at the chair his wife's feet had just vacated.

"Not really, Dad," Hermione said as she looked up from her bowl.

"Well, your mother and I are planning on heading out to the Christmas tree lot and pick out a tree. I know how you and Harry love going with us."

"Oh! Of course! Can Draco and Ron come, too?"

"Of course they can," Mrs. Granger answered.

"Maybe you should stay home though, Honey, so you don't overexert yourself," Mr. Granger said with slight concern.

"Nonsense, my delivery date isn't for another month! I'll be fine."

"Well…alright." Mr. Granger still looked concerned but he obviously had a hard time saying no to his wife.

"So, when are we going?" Hermione asked as she wiped her spoon clean with a napkin and set it down.

"As soon as you all are finished," her father said in response.

"Well, I'm finished," Hermione quipped.

"Me too," Harry said; he had eaten half of his bowl and felt energy slowly returning to his sore body. "Draco?"  
"Yeah," Draco answered softly. Harry pursed his lips when he saw that the other had only taken a few spoonfuls.

"Alright, seems like we're ready. I'll just go get my boots on," Mr. Granger said with a smile.

"Hold on a sec," Ron said and he picked up his bowl and gulped the rest of its contents down in a few swallows. He sighed and put the bowl back down. "There. Okay, I'm ready."

Hermione helped her mother to her feet while Harry grabbed Draco's hand and pulled him out of his chair. They bustled toward the front entrance, where they all grabbed their coats and scarves as Mr. Granger grabbed the car keys. Ron decided to go in his truck; it would be a tight squeeze in the Granger car otherwise.

"I'll just follow you there," Ron said as he pulled his keys out of his pocket and headed over to his truck.

"I'll go with you!" Hermione said suddenly and Ron, Harry and Draco all looked at her. A flush formed on her cheeks and she gave a sheepish smile, "For company, you know?"

"Right, 'company'," Harry said with a grin and a nudge, "have fun keeping Ron…uh…company."

Hermione just gave him a hard glare before she stepped into Ron's truck and slammed the passenger door closed.

Harry chuckled a bit to himself; how long did Hermione plan to continue this charade? With a sigh, he led Draco over the car and got into the backseat with him. Draco sat closely to him on the ride there; he was leaning slightly on Harry with his head resting on top of Harry's. His eyes were searching out the window, watching as everything passed them by. At that moment there was nothing but the rumble of the car under them, the faint sound of the wind whishing past and the two of them together.

---

"How about this one, honey?"

"No, no dear, there are bald patches all over it."

"How can a tree have bald patches, Dad?"

"Just look here and here. See?"

"Well, then what about this one? It looks fine to me."

"It's a couple of inches too tall, Hermione. It would take out our ceiling lights."

"Oh come on, Dad, that's ridiculous. We're never going to find a 'perfect' tree, anyway."

Hermione looked about ready to pull out some hair as they went through what seemed like the hundredth tree that afternoon. Harry mostly just stood to the side and let the family decide on their own. It was like this every year – whenever November was coming to an end, the Granger family plus Harry went Christmas tree hunting, and like now, it seemed they could never decide on a tree.

Harry broke off from the family and walked through the rows upon rows of beautiful, green trees. The fresh scent each gave off surrounded him and he couldn't think of a better scent to set the Christmas spirit. His feet crunched on the fallen thistles and pinecones as he studied each tree, stopping to touch each one. He loved the feel of nature; it was so peaceful and wondrous. He closed his eyes and breathed it in; it took him away for a second and he lived in that moment.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Draco standing a few trees down from him. He was studying a tree particularly closely with his head cocked to the side curiously. Harry walked over to him, stood beside him and turned to the tree as well. It was a bit different from the others; a little bit shorter, a shade greener and perfectly shaped. He stared at it with Draco for a little while before deciding to break the silence.

"Do you like this tree?" he asked.

"It's pretty," Draco answered with a shrug, "I like it."

"It is a nice one," Harry agreed.

"Looking at it makes me almost wish we got Christmas trees when I was growing up."

Harry was startled at that; Draco never had a Christmas tree for Christmas? He knew he shouldn't be as shocked as he was about that. But Harry knew where he was coming from; he had never seen a Christmas tree himself before he had met the Grangers. Without the Grangers, Harry felt sure he would've never celebrated Christmas in the first place. They gave him so many things that as a child he only ever dreamed of. Here…Draco was alone now. He had no family to take care of him. This made Harry feel so lucky for his…family. That's what they were after all; they were his family.

"Come on, let's go show the rest your tree," Harry said, breaking through his own thoughts. He grabbed Draco's hand and ran off in the direction he had left the others.

"S-stop, Harry, not so fast!" Draco said with slight laughter in his voice. Harry smiled hugely and only ran faster. Giggles burst from their mouths as they dodged around trees and people, searching for the Grangers.

He must've been running too fast; too immersed in the feeling of the cold air whipping past him and the musical laughter spilling from their mouths that he didn't even notice a large tree come from nowhere as he ripped around a corner.

"Whoa! Watch it!" Draco yelled from behind and caught Harry around the waist just before he could collide with it. They both stumbled backward and fell to the floor, Harry practically sitting on top of Draco in a large, tangled mess of arms and legs.

They looked at each other and then at the tree before bursting out laughing. They laughed until they could no longer breathe properly. The few people around them stopped to stare at them oddly; they must have looked like they'd gone completely bonkers.

"You were about to get creamed by that tree!" Draco said, gasping for breath.

"You saved my hide." Harry rubbed his arm and back where he had landed and shook his head at the tree, "I really need to watch where I'm going."

"Lucky I was here."

"My hero! Anyway, let's go find the others. We'll walk this time."

It took a bit of time but they finally ran into the Grangers and Ron near the end of the lot. They were looking over a tree that was frosted in white paint. They looked up and smiled cheerily when Harry and Draco approached. Everyone was beginning to get a bit rosy-cheeked from prolonged exposure to the cold.

"There you boys are; we were beginning to wonder where you'd gone off to!"

"Sorry about that, Mr. Granger, but we found a really good tree that we wanted to show you."

"Lovely! Lead the way, my boy," Mr. Granger said.

"Okay it's right over…," Harry turned this way and that and then stopped. He put his hands on his hips and huffed, "well it was around here somewhere!"

"I guess we got kind of turned around," Draco said in a low voice.

"It's okay, we'll just go look for it," Mr. Granger said.

"I'll just wait here, okay? My feet are killing me," Mrs. Granger said as she shooed them away with her hands, "I'll be fine." She took a seat down on a stack of hay next to a life size model of a toy-train. A few kids were playing around in it, asking their parents if this is what Santa used to get his toys around.

"Alright, we won't be a moment." And then Harry, Draco and now Hermione, Mr. Granger and Ron set off on their quest to find 'the perfect tree'.

It took a bit of getting lost and turned around in the maze of trees before they had spotted it. It was Draco who had found it; trust it to be him to recognize the tree amongst hundreds of similar looking ones.

"There it is," he said to Harry and pointed to it across the way. Harry smiled and they hurried over to it. Mr. Granger whistled appreciatively when they stopped in front of it.

"It is a beauty," he commented. He walked around it, studying its bark, its branches and its height before giving a nod of approval. "It certainly is a perfect looking tree."

Draco looked rather pleased that his tree had been chosen and Harry felt happy for him. This would be the first time having a Christmas tree for him and he got to choose it.

It was about another half hour before they got their tree paid for and loaded into the back of Ron's truck (Ron looking smug that his truck had come in handy…again). When they got home, Harry, Ron, Draco and Mr. Granger all helped unload the tree while Hermione helped her mother inside to sit down. Apparently the day out had been a bit too much because Mrs. Granger was feeling a bit tired and ill.

As they got the tree out of the back of the truck, Harry felt something wet and cold drop onto his cheek. He blinked and looked up at the sky, surprised to see that dark storm clouds had moved in across the sky quite rapidly. It looked like it would start raining very soon. He thought that that was a shame; it had started out as such a nice day.

"Okay, men, ready?" Mr. Granger said as they took their places around the tree, Harry nodded with the others and grabbed hold of the tree as best he could. "On three…one…two…three!" There were some grunts and groans as the four of them hauled the heavy tree up the front steps to the house. Hermione was standing there holding the door open for them. Harry panted and heaved as they squeezed through the doorway in one giant bulk. Tree needles were falling all over the floor and getting stuck in Harry's jumper and hair. They scratched against his cheek as they carried it into the living room.

"Right here, lads," Mr. Granger instructed and they placed the tree in the designated spot near the corner of the living room. It was next to the window so when it was decorated, the lights would be visible through it to any one passing by. When it was steady, they all stepped back and held their sides as they panted.

"Perfect," Mr. Granger said, picking needles out of his coat and hair. He adjusted his glasses and swiped his arms clean of dust and dirt.

Harry couldn't help but agree; the tree looked great even without all of the decorations on it.

"The ornaments are in a box in the bedroom closet," Mrs. Granger said from her spot on the sofa, "Will one of you go get it?"

"I will, Mum," Hermione volunteered and ran off down the hallway. She returned a minute later with a large box in her hands over-filled with all sorts of glittering items. She set it down on the coffee table for everyone to examine. Mr. Granger was just reaching over to grab the ornament on the top when the sound of beeping interrupted their activities.

"That's my beeper," he said and reached for the little black beeper attached to his belt. He looked at the numbers on it before sighing.

"That's my work, I'm needed down there," he said while reattaching the thing to his belt.

"But, Dear!" Mrs. Granger was about to complain, "We…"

"I know, I know, I'll try not to be too long, okay?" He bent over and gave her a peck on the lips before rushing out the door once more. Mrs. Granger didn't even get another word out as the door slammed behind him. She shut her half-way open mouth and sighed.

"Don't worry, Mum, he'll be back. In the mean time, we can start decorating the tree!"

"But we always do it with your father," Mrs. Granger said, obviously disappointed at these turns of events.

"Well…we can just unpack the ornaments then, how does that sound?"

"Alright, I'll watch you guys." Hermione nodded. Harry, Ron, and Draco all gathered around the coffee table to watch. This was one of Harry's favorite parts – Mrs. Granger always had such interesting stories regarding each and every one of the decorations.

Hermione pulled out a little ballerina girl from the midst of the box and held it up for all to see.

"Oh, dear, we still have that one?" Mrs. Granger said with a fond chuckle. "We bought that one the year you were born, Hermione. It was always your favorite – I believe it's the reason you got so fascinated in dancing."

"I've heard that story a million times, Mum!" Hermione complained.

"But Draco and Ron haven't, isn't that right?"

"Yes, ma'am," Ron replied as he dug through the box and pulled out a little golden angel.

"That one came from Hermione's aunt; it's one of the newer ones," Mrs. Granger said as the little thing glinted in the light. Ron set it gently down next to the ballerina.

Next, Draco pulled out an ornament that looked like Santa Claus…only he was wearing a Hawaiian shirt with beach sandals and sunglasses on his rosy-cheeked face.

"Oh, dear, that hideous thing! It came from Hermione's grandfather – the man never had much tact. We just keep it to spare his feelings. He always did have a thing for those horrid Hawaiian shirts. Showed up for every special event in one; it was mortifying." Everyone laughed at that; even Draco spared an appreciative grin.

Harry searched through the box until he came across a particular one; he smiled as he pulled it out. It was a little oval picture frame with his photo in it. The words "Harry" were written across the bottom of the frame. Hermione, Mr. Granger, and Mrs. Granger all had ones like it with their own pictures in it. He noticed that the photo was a bit out of date though – if he recalled, he was about eight or nine when it had been taken.

"You look so cute there, Harry," Mrs. Granger commented as she looked over his shoulder. "Come to think of it, we should get one of these for Ron and Draco; they are family now after all."

"That's a good idea, Mum," Hermione said as she pulled out another frame; this one was shaped like a little heart and inside was a photo of Hermione and Harry dressed in their Swan Princess costumes for a Christmas dance so many years ago. Hermione was the swan princess and Harry was the swan prince. They were smiling hugely at the camera together.

"You two looked so adorable in your little costumes; I remember that day so clearly. Hermione had started crying because some child had poured juice on her dress and it took us hours to calm her down before she could go out and perform!"

Everyone laughed as Hermione turned a delicate shade of pink.

"Stop telling everyone that story, Mum!"

"Oh, hush. It's cute."

"All mothers say that, even when it's decidedly _not_ cute." They continued to go through each ornament, Mrs. Granger stopping them every time to tell a mini-story about its origin and whatnot.

"Your father's friend from Wales gave us that one on his visit a couple of years ago," she said as Hermione held up one that looked like a large trout with a Santa hat on, "he was always a avid fisher, I remember once he…oh…" Harry looked up when Mrs. Granger stopped in the middle of her sentence. Her eyes were wide and she was clutching her belly.

"Mum?" Hermione asked as she stood up and walked over to her, "Mum, are you alright?"

"Yeah, I think it was just…oooh!" she groaned again and her breathing became rather harsh.

"Mum! What's the matter?"

"I'm…I'm going into labor, Hermione," Mrs. Granger panted.

"What? I thought you weren't due for another month!"

"It must be coming early," Mrs. Granger breathed.

"I'll call dad," Hermione bumped into the coffee table as she hurried over to the phone. She picked up the receiver and began dialing a number when she stopped suddenly.

"The phone is dead! A phone line must've gotten knocked down."

"Ju-just get me to the hospital," she instructed through deep, calming breaths. Ron stood up and fumbled for his keys as Harry and Hermione helped Mrs. Granger to her feet. Draco stood in the background looking awkward and unsure of what to do. They walked slowly toward the door, Mrs. Granger holding her stomach securely as she wobbled along.

Ron opened the door and they were met with a roar of wind as rain-water was blown into their faces.

"I don't know how safe it is to drive in this…" Ron said unsurely but was cut off as Mrs. Granger gave another moan of pain.

"Wait here while I go start the truck up," Ron said. Hermione nodded and began helping her mother into her coat.

"It's going to be alright, Mother," she said soothingly, "Ron will get you to the hospital."

But Ron came rushing up the porch steps about five minutes later, soaking wet and panting.

"My truck, it won't start," he said, panicking.

"What! But we need to get Mum to the hospital," Hermione almost shouted.

"Use our car," Mrs. Granger said.

"Dad took it, remember?"

"Oooh," Mrs. Granger moaned.

"What are we going to do?!" Hermione said, nearly hysterical.

"It's okay, Hermione; let's just get your mum back to the sofa and we'll think from there," Harry suggested, trying to keep a level head. He had never been in a situation like this before. They helped Mrs. Granger back to the sofa and laid her down gently, adding a few pillows behind her for back support. She was already beginning to sweat.

It was about then that the power decided to go out; they were suddenly doused in darkness and the only sound was that of the heavy rain pounding against the rooftop and windows.

"Just great," Hermione said in frustration. "How could this get any worse?"

"It can't," Ron said. Harry looked around, searching for the others; he could only make out faint black outlines of each person.

"Do you have any candles?" he asked.

"Yeah, in the kitchen," Hermione said from somewhere next to him. Harry made his way carefully around everyone and felt his way to the kitchen, making sure not to run into anything. He kept his hands out in front of him until he felt them bump into something smooth and solid. He assumed that was the kitchen counter. He felt around some more until he came in contact with the handle of one of the drawers. He dug through each one, feeling around for anything that felt like a candle. He almost let out a curse when something sharp sliced open his middle finger. Not wasting time dwelling on that, he went through several more drawers before he felt something smooth and waxy. He pulled them out in triumph and hurried back into the living room.

Now that his eyes had adjusted to the dark a bit, he could discern who was who in the room.

"Do you have any matches or a lighter?" he asked as he held up the candles.

"Yeah, right here," Hermione said as she opened the drawer of the side table by the sofa. She grabbed a book of matches; there was the sound of a match striking against the back of the book and then a small flame. Harry followed the small, dim light from the match and handed the candles to Hermione one by one as she lit them with it. Soon there was the soft glow of candles lighting up the room as they set them all around.

"What now?" Ron asked as Hermione blew the match out.

"I'm…I'm not sure," she said as she wrung her hands and looked down at her mum.

"Well, think of something!" Ron said, "You're the smart one here."

Harry ignored them for a moment and walked over to Draco, who was standing off to the side with wide eyes and a frightened expression.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked as he took the other's hand. Draco looked at him and nodded.

"Yeah, I've just never been in this kind of situation before."

"Me neither." They stood in silence, holding hands as they waited for some kind of instructions. Draco suddenly pulled his hand back and studied it. There was a spot of blood on his skin; he looked at Harry curiously.

"Did you cut yourself?" he asked.

"It's only a small cut, don't worry about it." Harry looked down at his hand but Draco snatched it up to study it in the meager lighting. The cut was definitely not small; in fact, the slice went rather long and deep. Blood was oozing from it and down Harry's hand.

"You should get a bandage for that," Draco told him as he let Harry's hand go.

"I will later; right now we have other things to worry about."

As if on cue, another little groan from Mrs. Granger cut through their conversation. It seemed whatever was happening to her was happening at a faster pace now.

"Her contractions are getting closer together," Hermione said, "The baby is coming fast!"

"Contractions? What are contractions?" Ron asked as he looked at the woman on the sofa.

"They cause the uterus to tighten and the cervix to loosen so it's easier for the baby to pass through," Hermione explained.

"Uterus…?" Ron looked a bit ill.

"Yes, Ron, uterus; now will you be quiet and let me think."

"Hermione, what do we do?" Harry asked as he stood around, feeling hopeless.

"Yeah, Hermione, we're all guys here…we don't know what to do. You're the girl here," Ron said.

"Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I naturally know all about giving birth," Hermione snapped. She then took a deep, calming breath and rubbed her temples. "Alright, I remember reading a book about pregnancies once and what to do in case of an emergency."

"And?" Harry urged.

"Hold on, I'm trying to remember…oh, right! We need towels! Ron, go grab some towels from the linen closet. Hurry!" Ron nodded and rushed off. "Harry, you go and warm some water, we may need it."

"I can handle that," Harry said and went back into the kitchen. He rummaged around in the cabinets and grabbed a pot to boil some water in. He filled it with water and set it on the gas burner. He turned it on high so it would heat quicker and waited for the water to come to a boil. While he did so he looked around for a large enough container to dump the water in. He came across a medium sized tub that would work well enough.

When the water was heated, he dumped it into the tub and carefully carried it back into the living room. Ron had arrived with several fluffy and clean towels in his arms.

"Okay, Harry, just set that down here by the sofa," Hermione ordered. Harry did as he was told, all the while watching Mrs. Granger. She seemed calmer, taking her practiced breaths and holding her stomach.

'Maybe those contraction thingies went away,' he thought. Hermione busied herself with setting one of the towels underneath her mother and placing the other ones in nearby reach for later.

"Okay, okay…okay, now…now we…," Hermione stood up and paced a bit. Then she stopped as if she remembered something. "Now we have to take her underwear off."

"What?" squeaked Ron. "Why?"

"Well, she can't very well have a baby with her under things on, now can she?"

"Oh, right," Ron said, going a bit red.

"Mum, do you think you can do that?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, I think so," Mrs. Granger replied. Ron, Draco, and Harry all had the decency to look away as she did this. Hermione gave them the okay when they were done and they turned around again just as Mrs. Granger was settling herself back down. Hermione rearranged her dress for her so it was covering her well enough.

"Now what?"

"Now we…wait," Hermione said, "I don't think she's dilated enough yet or something…if I remember correctly, that is. I'm not sure how to tell though."

"I guess when a baby starts coming out would be a good sign," Ron commented.

"Will you be mature about this?" Hermione bit back at him and turned away to tend to her mother.

"What? What did I say?" he whispered to Harry and Draco. They just shrugged, just as unsure as Ron was.

Not much happened after that for awhile; Hermione would order Harry to reheat the water every fifteen minutes or so, but other than that they were pretty much left to sit around and wonder. Mrs. Granger's contractions were starting to lengthen in time and intensity but according to Hermione, she still wasn't ready to give birth.

"Harry, come over here and help me for a second," Hermione asked. Harry stood up from his place by the coffee table and walked over to the two of them.

"Mum needs to use the restroom; can you help me walk her there, please?"

"Sure," Harry said. He bent down to Mrs. Granger's level to help her sit up properly. He then held her hand as she stood and waited for her to steady herself before they made the journey to the restroom.

"I'm so sorry about this," Mrs. Granger said, "I never wanted to put you in this kind of position."

"Don't worry about it, Mum, we want to help."

"Yeah, it's not your fault," Harry said with a smile.

"You two are sweet," Mrs. Granger said as they stopped in front of the bathroom. "I'll only be a moment." They nodded as she disappeared inside and they waited for her there.

"I can't believe this is happening; I don't think I've quite absorbed the reality of the situation yet," Hermione said.

"I know what you mean. You're going to be a sister, Hermione," Harry grinned.

"And you'll be a brother."

"But I'm not…"

"We've talked about this; blood doesn't matter here. You're like a son to my parents. I'm sure you'll do perfectly as the status of older brother."

"Thanks, Hermione. You'll be a great older sister."

"Well, I've had practice with you! Had to look after your sorry little behind all these years; it'll really pay off now."

"Oh, ha-ha," Harry said sarcastically. The door to the bathroom opened and Mrs. Granger walked out.

"Ready to go back!" she announced and they made their way back. It was about halfway there when something wet splashed to the floor and all over Mrs. Granger's, Hermione's and Harry's feet.

"My water broke!" Mrs. Granger exclaimed. Hermione tensed up and squeezed her mother's hand.

"It's okay; let's just get you back to the sofa. We'll clean it up," Hermione soothed. They quickly walked Mrs. Granger back to the couch and laid her down again. Hermione told them to watch her mother while she went to clean up the mess in the hall.

After her water had broken, it seemed things began to really speed up. Harry did the best he could to help by dabbing Mrs. Grangers' face free of sweat with a clean towel. Hermione returned and kneeled down by her mother's head. She moved some hair out of her mum's face and rubbed her shoulders soothingly, hoping to get her to relax as much as possible.

"Harry, why don't you go change into some fresh clothes," Hermione offered, nodding at his soaked jeans.

"Do you need me here?"

"I've got it covered; and Ron and Draco will be here if anything, by chance, happens while you're gone."

"Alright." Harry got up and went into Hermione's room. He searched through Hermione's dresser for a pair of jeans that would fit him properly. He just pulled out a pair when he heard the door open and close behind him. He turned around and saw Draco standing there, looking at him.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," the other responded.

"Something wrong?"

"No...just…," Draco broke off.

"What is it?" Harry urged.

"Just wanted to spend a moment alone with you."

"Well, definitely won't find that right now," Harry said, indicating to the commotion that was going on just outside the room.

"I know; but we're alone right now, aren't we?"

"That's true...did you need to talk about something?" Harry asked as he turned around and unbuttoned his jeans, sliding them off of his legs. He kicked them away and pulled on the clean pair. He felt acutely aware of Draco's eyes on him the whole time.

"I…." Draco was cut off by a cry coming from the living room. Harry's eyes darted to the door.

"Sorry, Draco," he said, "later okay?" and he rushed to the door. Just as he was reaching out for the doorknob, Draco grabbed his arm roughly and pulled him to his body. In the next split moment, Draco lowered his head and pressed his dry and chapped lips to Harry's. It was quick and light, but it made Harry's heart flutter. Draco then broke apart and hugged Harry tightly to him.

"Thank you," Draco whispered into his neck, "For everything."

Harry was a bit stunned, not knowing what to do; but he then relaxed in the embrace and smiled.  
Another cry from the other room caused them to jump apart; Harry made a dash out the door and into the living room.

"It's coming!" Hermione cried out. Harry's eyes widened and he felt Draco shift uncomfortably next to him.

"What do we do?" Ron yelled out, very panicked now.

"Don't panic!" Hermione nearly yelled, "we just have…we just have to check to see if the baby is already coming out."

"Then why aren't you doing that!" Ron demanded and stomped over to Mrs. Granger. He bent down and checked underneath the woman's dress, only to reappear not a second later. He stumbled backwards, holding his stomach as his face turned a sickly green. He pointed a trembling finger towards Mrs. Granger and shook his head.

"What in heaven's name is wrong with you, Ronald?" Hermione demanded.

"That is the most bloody scary thing I've ever seen in my life!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," Hermione said, walking over to her mother to take a look for herself, "It can't be that…Oh my!" Apparently it was that bad because Hermione pulled her mother's dress back down and looked away.

"Well, someone's gotta do it!" Harry said, looking worried, "did you see anything, Hermione? A head or anything?"

"Oh, I saw a lot more than that," Ron said in the background, cowering against the far wall.

"The head was visible," Hermione affirmed. She took a deep breath and looked at her mum. "Mum, you have to start pushing now, right?"

Mrs. Granger nodded.She braced herself against the sofa. Harry went over and grabbed her hand so she could have something to squeeze if it got too painful.

The rest of it was a blur to Harry; all he remembered was a fair amount of screaming, a pain in his hand as Mrs. Granger squeezed it into mush, and then the sounds of something crying.

He opened his eyes (having had them closed due to the excessive pain in his hand) and saw Hermione holding a baby carefully in her arms. It, along with Hermione's hands and clothes, were covered in blood and some kind of slimy substance. The umbilical cord was still attached to it and Mrs. Granger.

"What is it?" Mrs. Granger asked as she tried to sit up to look at her baby.

"It's a boy, Mum, a boy!" Hermione practically squealed. Mrs. Granger gave a soft, content sigh and collapsed back onto the pillows.

Harry walked on his knees over to where Hermione was; wanting to see for himself. The baby had his eyes closed and he was kicking his arms and legs around. Hermione wrapped him carefully in a towel to clean it off and give him warmth. She then handed the baby to her mother, being careful not to wrap the umbilical cord around the baby's neck.

"He's beautiful," Mrs. Granger said as she held her baby son for the first time. It was about then that the power decided to turn back on; the room filled with light and there was the buzzing sound of the heating system coming to life. Everyone looked around before cheering.

"Finally, a bit of good luck!" Ron said happily as Hermione rushed to call an ambulance. Draco, who had mostly been silent through the whole thing, walked over to Harry and Mrs. Granger and dropped down to his knees beside them. He looked at the baby in awe, as if he had never seen anything so mysterious and wonderful in his life. He almost looked like he wanted to reach out and touch it, to see if it was real for himself.

Harry smiled at him and patted his thigh; it was almost as if this baby being born was a sign for Draco; a sign that there is still good and wonder in the world. That there still is hope. Harry figured everything was going to begin to look up for Draco.

---

Mr. Granger arrived at the hospital an hour or so later, looking quite a sight as he burst into the hospital room. He stopped short when he saw his wife sitting on a hospital bed, holding a little bundle in her arms. Harry and the others were gathered around her, all unable to stop looking at the baby.

He rushed over as everyone made room for him. He, like everyone else, could only look on in wonderment.

"Say hello to your son," Mrs. Granger said.

"Hello," Mr. Granger said as he grabbed the baby's hand with his large one, "hello there, little…?"

"McKinley," she said, "McKinley Granger."

"Beautiful McKinley," Mr. Granger said. And everyone else couldn't help but agree.

* * *

Author's Note: Now that is what I call powering through a chapter. I sat my butt down and forced myself to write this thing by tonight. And ta da! Here it is. I hope it was good. Please tell me what you thought of it! If I made any errors regarding giving birth, then please tell me!

Thank you for all of your reviews, once again. I love getting them! I really do.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

Taking deep breaths, trying not to panic, he stepped closer and closer to his destination. It seemed with every step he took, his breathing became more erratic and his mind more panicked. It would be the first time he had come here…since that day. He hadn't wanted to face it again; couldn't he just pretend it wasn't real? Harry had insisted he come back – ("Trust me, Draco, it will help; it will lessen the pain a little," he had said). But it did not feel like it; he just wanted to turn around and run away.

Swallowing hard and staring down at the grave-marker with fear and contempt, he felt his knees begin to shake uncontrollably. Here he was, facing his worst fear; he was facing the thing he wanted to stay the farthest away from. Flexing his shaking hands and closing his eyes, he fell to his knees with a soft 'thump' against the ground and continued to take soft, yet heavy breaths. When he opened his eyes again, they were filled with tears ready to spill over.

"Mum?" he whispered, his eyes searching the marker; it had her name, a few words about her, and a little rose etched into it. It was an otherwise plain little thing; the only thing left to show of his mother. He suddenly felt this unexplainable desperation overtake his body and mind; it was so overwhelming that he ended up on his hands and knees, crawling on the grass, scrabbling around until he was certain that he was directly on top of where his mother was. He then lay his body down so that he was completely flat against it, face and body pressed against the earth.

He just lied there, focusing only on his breathing; 'don't think, just breathe'. He inhaled the scent of grass with every breath he took. The delicate little blades tickled his cheeks as he blew the air from his mouth. His shaking hands clutched at the ground tightly, nails scratching at the earth while he tried to control his emotions. He listened; listened to the sounds of tree branches creaking in the wind; the way they bent and swayed ever so slightly, reaching like hands up to the sky; scratching and scratching at the blue, blue sky. Dried autumn leaves rolled and bounced against the ground with the wind, like a dance; they made delicate crinkling sounds as they were bustled from one place to another.

It wasn't long before a fresh wave of tears fell from his overflowing eyes; they sprinkled onto the grass, catching onto the blades like raindrops and glittering in the sunlight. He watched it closely as it slid down the blade and soaked into the dirt, only to be replaced by more. There was the salty taste of the tears clinging to his lips but he did not find the strength to wipe them away.

When his tears were all cried out and all that was left were a few hiccups and sniffles, he felt the desperation begin to fade away. A sense of calm and peace filled the empty space within him. Lifting himself up on still slightly shaky arms, he sat on his knees and sighed. Looking down at the grave marker again, he did not feel angry anymore; he felt comforted – like some unseen force was telling him everything was alright.

_This too shall pass_.

He brought his hand up to his chest and clutched at his heart, wanting to believe that it was true. Will it? Will this unbearable pain he feels soon dissolve?

The sound of someone approaching from behind him brought his thoughts to a halt. He turned his head slightly to the side and saw out of the corner of his eye a person standing there.

"Hey," the person said. Draco heard him shift around on his feet.

"Hi, Harry," Draco said, a small smile on his face, "What're you doing here?"

Harry took a few steps forward so he was standing next to where Draco was sitting. Draco looked up at him; the boy was dressed in his usual worn-out attire: a pair of dark blue jeans ripped in several places and a black turtle-neck that looked about a size too large. Draco smiled when he noticed that only the very tips of Harry's fingers were visible through the overly-long sleeves of the shirt. It made him look younger and cuter.

"I figured you'd be here," Harry shrugged, "and since my parents are buried here too, I thought I'd pay a visit as well."

"You walked all the way down here?" Draco suddenly felt bad; he had forgotten all about Harry's parents. So lost in grief that he was, he hadn't considered that others have gone through the same thing he has. Harry even lost both of his parents and had never really known them. Draco suddenly admired how strong Harry was – he almost never showed how much he might actually be hurting.

"Nah, Ron gave me a ride on his way back from Hermione's house."

"He's waiting for you, then?"

"He said something about having to run an errand," Harry said, "I guess that means I'll be walking back."

"Oh."

"I'm glad you came here, Draco," Harry softly said, "It really will help in the long run."

"Yeah," Draco said, nodding while looking back down at his mother's grave.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot," Harry suddenly said. He held up his hand, which had two roses clutched in it. One was white while the other one was a lovely red, both with dark green stems and leaves. He stepped forward and laid the white one down on his mother's grave before stepping away again.

"What was that for?" Draco asked curiously as Harry took a seat beside him.

"Well…whenever I come to visit my parents, I always bring them roses; remember on Halloween?" At Draco's nod, Harry continued: "Well, I thought about your mum and got her one as well."

Draco couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude and affection spread through him. Harry was always thinking of others, "So is that why you have that other rose? For your parents?"

Harry suddenly blushed as he looked down at the red rose he had laid on his lap; "Well uh…when I got the other roses, I saw the red one and I thought it looked really pretty…and then well…," Harry shifted before he held the rose out to Draco. Draco looked at it with confusion. "This one's for you."

Draco's heart skipped a beat as he reached a hand out to take the rose. He looked down at it and fingered the green leaves gently.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

"You know; when I first met you, I thought you were a real jerk," Harry said, surprising Draco.

"Well, thanks again, Harry," Draco said sarcastically. The amusement expressed on Harry's face was contagious and Draco felt himself smile as well. Harry's happiness sure was infectious.

"What I meant was that I thought you were just a rude jackass, but I'm glad I got to know you now."

"Because you found out that I'm not really a jackass?"

"Well…no, you're still that," Harry said playfully.

"Watch it!" Draco growled and gave Harry a mock-glare.

"I just meant that I've really come to know you as a better person. You have your charms."

Draco nodded and leaned back on his hands, staring up at the tall trees around the cemetery. A few birds fluttered around them, taking flight from the higher branches and soaring into the blue-gray sky.

"I thought you were annoying," Draco admitted, "With your head so far up in the clouds, fooling yourself into believing the world was good and fair."

"And now?"

Draco thought for a moment, tapping his fingers against the ground. "And now…now I think you're a good person, who likes to see the good in people… with his head still stuck up in the clouds."

"Well, thank you," Harry said with a slight giggle in his words. It was a comfortable silence after that; Draco was simply drinking in the comfort and tranquility that being around Harry usually brought to him. He watched as Harry occasionally pulled at the grass under his hands or tucked strands of his hair behind his ear: 'He really needs a haircut,' Draco thought fondly.

"Hey…I think I'm ready to head back," Draco said after a while. Harry looked over to him and nodded. They both stood up and dusted their trousers free of dirt and grass. Draco held his rose tightly in his hand, not wanting to accidentally drop or lose it. No one had ever given him a flower before; receiving a flower from another guy wasn't exactly high on the list of manly things, but he really didn't care. It felt good.

They walked home together; it was easy being around Harry. The entire time they walked, Harry told little stories about things he had done recently or far in the past; he pointed up at the sky whenever a cloud took on a strange or interesting shape, telling Draco exactly what it looked like to him; he sang tunes and laughed and joked, generally putting Draco at ease – how could so many good feelings come from a single person?

Draco knew they had gotten back into the main part of the city by the amount of traffic – both pedestrian and vehicular. Loud rap music pumped from passing cars, vibrating through his ears as they walked past a few people. Harry was in the middle of telling a story about Hermione's driving skills when their path was suddenly blocked by several people. Draco immediately recognized them as Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle.

"Well, well, well," Blaise said, his face splitting into a huge grin, "If it isn't our old friend, Draco."

"Blaise," Draco said cautiously, watching all of them very closely. His whole body was tense and ready to react in case the others decided to try something. He could feel Harry's anxiousness as he stood beside him; the other boy was also watching the others closely. It was obvious Harry remembered Blaise from the last time the two had run into each other.

"Haven't seen you around, Draco. Been hiding?" Blaise asked him as he took a step closer. Draco clenched his fists as his eyes narrowed. He didn't like that glint in Blaise's eyes as he looked at him and Harry. "I see you're still hanging around this little runt."

"What do you want, Blaise?" Draco said dangerously. Blaise averted his eyes from Harry and back onto Draco. He smiled and gave a quiet laugh.

"What? I can't talk to an old friend?"

"We're not friends anymore Blaise; in fact, I don't think we ever were," Draco said. "Just seeing you standing here leads me to believe you're up to something."

"Always jumping to conclusions, Draco," Blaise said, "It'll get you messed up some day."

"Stop trying to scare me," Draco said, "It won't work."

"Draco," Harry whispered from next to him. Draco noticed that Harry had moved closer to him throughout his entire exchange with Blaise. It was obvious Harry was getting worried.

"You know what Blaise; get your head checked," Draco said, beginning to turn away, guiding Harry with him, "It's obvious you don't understand what the words "fuck off" means." With that, Draco flipped Blaise off and turned his back; of course, he knew Blaise wouldn't take kindly to such a gesture. He was prepared for an attack; and sure enough, the moment he had begun to walk away, he could sense a fist coming straight for him. Dodging to his left, he avoided it just in time. He heard Blaise growl in frustration and prepare for another attack. Draco turned around and landed a hard punch to Goyle's face; he had been trying to grab Draco from the side. The large boy stumbled backwards as he held his face in agony.

"You're outnumbered, Draco," Blaise said as they surrounded him and Harry, "All you have is that little runt next to you; do you seriously think you can take us all on?"

"You shouldn't underestimate Harry," Draco responded. Blaise was so busy laughing at Draco's statement that he didn't see Draco rush at him before pushing him roughly up against a shop wall. He knew they were already attracting the attention of other people; it wouldn't be long before the police got involved.

Blaise shoved against Draco causing Draco to stumble backwards. A fist crashed into the side of his face and stars exploded in front of his eyes. He overbalanced from the power of the blow and landed hard on his back. The rose he had been holding in his hand flew from his grip and out of reach. It was then trampled underneath Blaise's feet; its delicate petals squashed and mutilated. However, he did not have time to ponder on that as he looked up just in time to see Blaise aiming a kick for his ribs; he rolled to the side and crawled out of range of Blaise's foot. He jumped to his feet and landed a kick in Blaise's gut just as the other boy was coming at him. Blaise doubled over in pain, clutching at his stomach as he tried to regain his breath.

A yell from behind him caused Draco to look back, breaking his concentration on his opponent. He got just a glimpse of Harry ducking around Crabbe and Goyle, who were both advancing on him at the same time, before he felt a foot collide with his back. He fell to all fours as his back exploded with pain. Another kick to his stomach caused him to fall to his shoulder; he rolled around onto his back, raised his leg up and pushed Blaise away with it.

He heard Harry yelp out again and he looked to where he was; he was clutching at his face as he tried to back away from his assailants. Crabbe and Goyle were surrounding him menacingly; they were so much larger than poor Harry – there was no way he could take them on by himself.

Scrambling to his feet, he charged at Goyle and rammed into him. The two of them fell to the ground with Draco on top. He rained blow after blow to Goyle's face.

"Harry! Just run!" he yelled to the other boy.

"No way! You can't take all these guys all by yourself," Harry yelled back as he landed a kick to Crabbe's nose. Draco rolled his eyes. His funeral, he thought.

A pair of arms wrapped around his middle and hauled him off of Goyle, whose nose was now bleeding freely. He was thrown back and he collided with a brick wall before sliding to the ground. A pair of dark hands grabbed his coat and forced him up again. He was shoved against the wall and his head banged roughly against it. He felt a knee connect with his middle and the air was knocked out of him. He wheezed in pain as a barrage of assaults continued to come down on him.

Thinking he would black out at any moment now, he felt himself start to give up. Just as he figured he couldn't take anymore, the hits subsided and Blaise was suddenly off of him. He looked up through his hair and saw Harry on Blaise's back, forcing him away from Draco. Blaise gave out a frustrated growl and banged his elbow into Harry's face to get him to back off. It worked – Harry fell off of Blaise from the impact of the blow. Blaise turned around and grabbed Harry's shoulders and pulled on his hair, while punching him a couple of times across the face. He then kneed him in the stomach before throwing him toward the street. Harry fell, rolled and skidded to a stop in the gutter. Draco heard him cough as he tried to get up again.

People were gasping and talking around them as a crowd gathered around the commotion. It seemed no one had guts enough to stop the fight, but content enough in just watching as the boys beat each other to a pulp.

Blaise looked over to Draco, panting and wiping blood away from his busted lip.

"Is this all, Draco?" Blaise asked. "Is this the best you can do?" He laughed his maniacal laugh before reaching into his jacket pocket and producing his switchblade. Draco's eyes widened before they narrowed again. "You and your little faggot boyfriend need to learn your places."

"Shut up!" Draco said, anger flaring within him at the crude words coming from Blaise's mouth, "Why can't you just shut the fuck up!" He ran at Blaise, not caring that the other was holding a potentially deadly weapon in his hands. He tackled him to the ground and the struggle to overpower Blaise began. He was scratching at the boy's arms trying to get the knife out of his hands.

"Draco!" Harry yelled in fear, but Draco ignored him. He was focused on the task of beating the crap out of Blaise and taking his knife.

Blaise hurled Draco off of him and rolled away before Draco could make another attack. He stood up as Draco did and made a furious dash at him, knife raised and ready to strike.

"Watch out!"

Draco felt something shove him, causing him to fall back against the wall of the shop. He 'oofed' as his back collided with it while he struggled to keep his balance. Once he was able to orient himself properly, he looked up to notice that Harry had pushed him out of the way just before Blaise could stab him with the knife. His eyes widened, however, when he noticed Harry was clutching his arm, painfully sucking in his breath while blood oozed between his fingers through his torn sleeve.

People were shouting in panic and Draco heard the sound of sirens from the far off distance. It had only been several minutes since the fight had started – someone had called the cops already.

They all stared at each other for a few seconds as Harry tried to keep from bleeding too much. Then Blaise just shrugged and grinned.

"Oops," was all he said before he aimed another attack; this one happened to injure Draco this time. The sharp metal was jammed into Draco's shoulder, piercing through his skin and muscle, causing his whole arm to erupt in pain.

Blaise looked up when the sirens had gotten closer, only to notice that the police car had rounded the corner and was heading straight for them.

"Shit," he said. He yanked the knife from Draco's shoulder, causing Draco to cry out. "The police."

'I can't let them see me,' Draco thought. With that, he shoved past Blaise and began running down the street, clutching at his shoulder in agony. He heard Harry calling after him; calling for him to stop. He heard the desperation, fear and agony in the other's voice. But Draco could not stop – it was in his nature to run, and so he ran, leaving Harry behind with the monsters that had caused their pain. As he ripped around a tall building, he turned his head back just as Blaise was thrown on top of the hood of a police car, being handcuffed. Blaise was looking in his direction with a hard, cold, vengeful look in his eyes.

A sharp pain in his shoulder prompted him to continue running before the police spotted him too. With fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket, blood seeping through steadily, he ran to the only place he could think of – his father's house.

People looked at him oddly as he bumbled around them – even though they never said a word, it was as though he was a creature to distain with their eyes and mind. He could see it in their faces. Who is this thing of filth and why is it allowed to roam our city? Filth dirtying up our streets. This is what he felt from each person he ran past, radiating off of them like waves of disgust.

Climbing up the steps to his house in a drunken like dizziness, his body slammed against the front door. His hand that wasn't holding his wound fumbled with the door knob and pushed the door open roughly. He stumbled into the house, blinking at how dark it was. Blindly he made his way into the bathroom, tripping and bumping into furniture and walls all the way there. He searched for the light switch and flipped it on, the dim light filling the tiny room, a buzzing sound emitting from the light bulb hanging from the ceiling.

He walked over to the sink hurriedly, crashing into it accidentally and wincing in pain as his wound got jarred. He steadied himself with both of his hands on the sink, effectively getting blood all over it. He turned on the faucet and opened up the medicine cabinet, searching through it. His shaking hands shoved useless products out of the way, sending them crashing to floor as he searched.

At last he came across a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a roll of gauze. He unscrewed the cap of the peroxide with one hand before pulling off his jacket and throwing it to the ground. He looked at his wound and felt sick at the sight. The cut, though not terribly deep, was bleeding profusely.

He quickly snatched a towel from the rack behind him and began dapping at the wound in an attempt to stem the flow. When it was as clean as it was going to get, he picked up the alcohol and poured it over the cut.

"Fuck!" he cursed as he dropped the bottle to the floor. The contents spilt across the floor as he grabbed at his arm. A burning sensation went all through his arm as the alcohol worked its way into his wound.

"Fuck," he said again, hissing in pain as he looked around before spotting the gauze on the sink. He snatched it up with his free hand. Using his teeth, he unraveled a good amount and began wrapping it around his wound to keep it from bleeding any further. When he wrapped it well enough, he ripped the gauze with his teeth as best he could.

He threw the roll into the sink and ran his hand through his hair. What the hell had happened back there? How could it have escalated to this? Had Blaise really intended to _kill_? He looked at his arm again and saw bright red all ready colouring the white fabric.

"Shit," he said, angrily kicking the bathroom cabinets and slamming his hands down on the sink top. He continued to swear under his breath as he leaned against the counter. Sighing, he wiped his hands across his face. However, he pulled them back sharply when he realized that his hands were still covered in blood. He had gotten some on his face as a result.

He thrust his hands underneath the jetting faucet water and scrubbed them clean. The orange-tinted water swirled down the drain until only clear, clean water was flowing into the sink. He splashed some on his face, careful not to make too many jerky movements with his arm, and then shut the faucet off.

He took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes; a sudden onslaught of dizziness hit him. He stepped back from the sink and walked out of the bathroom, all the while trying to remain standing. He still felt a bit shocked over the whole situation. Had Blaise really stabbed him? Blaise must have been really angry at Draco's abandonment to go as far as to injure him out in open public.

As he reached the kitchen, he suddenly remembered Harry. His gut clenched uncomfortably and he closed his eyes. Harry had been hurt too and he just left him there. He was sure the police had taken care of him; got him to a hospital or called for an ambulance at least. He wondered if Harry was okay.

He opened the door to the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of juice, his hands shaking a bit as he did. When searching through the cabinets for a glass to drink from, he merely achieved in breaking a few as his dizziness increased. Abandoning his search, he merely ripped the cap off of the carton and gulped down the juice straight from the container. He made several large gulps, greedily taking in the sugary sweetness as some of it dribbled from the corners of his mouth and down his neck. His thirst was seemingly unquenchable.

"What the holy hell are you doing in here, boy?" came a gruff voice from the entrance to the kitchen. Draco brought the carton away from his mouth and looked over to his father. The man was standing there, hand out braced against the wall as he watched his son.

Draco wiped his mouth with his arm and set the juice down on the kitchen counter. He did not say anything in return at first. Silence seemed the thing that angered his father the most.

"Answer me," Lucius demanded angrily.

"I do not have to answer to the likes of you," Draco spat back, glaring hard at the man he once knew as his father.

"Get in to more trouble, did you?" Lucius said as he walked into the room, closer to Draco. "Come into my house all bloody, making noises and breaking things. What is the meaning of this?"

"Nothing," Draco said.

"Like hell. You got into another fight, didn't you?" Lucius asked, pointing a finger at Draco, "Got into a fight and now you're here, hiding out like you always do. Always bringing trouble into my house!"

"I don't bring any trouble, old man," Draco said quietly. His hands were gripping tightly against the tile of the counter. His anger was boiling once again, manifesting into the all too familiar hatred. The hatred he felt only around this man. The despicable man before him.

"You're a loser, boy," Lucius said, shaking his head as his looked at his son with disgust, "Always been a loser in my eyes. Your mother was a fool; always told you what a good kid you were and that you would grow up to be somethin'. But only an idiot would listen to her lies." He waved a dismissing hand at Draco and turned around to walk out. It was as if Draco wasn't even worth it anymore.

"You're the loser," Draco whispered. Lucius stopped short and turned around again. He looked at Draco as if he had not heard him right.

"Excuse me?" Lucius said dangerously, advancing on Draco again, "What did you say?"

"You heard me," Draco said, louder this time. "You're a loser. A drunk. A good-for-nothing pig!"

"How dare you!" Lucius growled, his face turning red with anger. "You insolent little punk! You don't know what I've done for you. You ungrateful boy. If it weren't for your mother, I would have beaten sense into you long ago! You will meet your end, Draco. You will find your grave alongside your bitch of a mother."

That is what did it for him. That one little remark snapped all self-control, if any, that Draco possessed. He rushed up to his father and pushed him up against the wall, his arm against his neck, pinning him there. He brought his face close to his father's, breathing harshly into the man's face.

"Don't you ever," Draco said, pressing his arm harder against his father's throat, "ever say that about my mother again, you bloody bastard."

Lucius merely let out a laugh, though it was a bit forced as his airway was restricted. He pushed Draco from him, causing the boy to stumble backward. He backhanded him, which sent Draco crashing against the table and chairs. He landed hard on his wounded shoulder, a shout ripping from his already abused throat. He wheezed and coughed as he struggled to get up again.

Lucius approached him and looked down at him.

"You're nothing to me," he said to the boy on the ground, "you're nothing to nobody." He turned and walked out of the room; Draco made a mad attempt at getting up again; he wanted to strike back, prove to him that he was not nothing, but his energy had evaded him. He was in too much pain and far too tired to move any further. Instead, he collapsed onto his back once again and stared up at the ceiling. His sucked in air, trying in vain to numb the pain that was coursing through his every being at that moment.

Coughing again, he turned over to his side and stared at the floor. A few bugs scuttled across it, searching and searching for spare pieces of food to take. His eyes followed their progress as a sense of remorse and deep anger filled him. He wanted to feel that sweet hollowness; the sense of numbness and emptiness that came from not caring anymore. How can one just stop caring? How could he stop this pain? He wanted so badly to forget.

Though no tears spilt from his eyes this time, he felt sure his heart was bleeding its own tears. His father's words may have well been true; did he not have a single soul left in the world? His mother was dead; his father…might as well have been. He was not a father to him anymore. His friends were not his friends and the world hated him. To them, he was expendable; a rat that may as well die in a gutter somewhere.

His fingers curled against the cold and dirty ground that he lay upon. His fingernails scratched against the tiles and the pain suffocated him. Was he truly helpless?

'To live a life alone is to not live at all. It is a sorrowful and empty existence. Is this what I am doomed to be for the rest of my life?'

"Please," he whispered, choking on his own words. His breathing was becoming harder as the pain continued to consume at his heart. "Please help me."

He was met only with silence.

* * *

Author's Note: This chapter took quite some time to write. I've been writing it for a few weeks now. I hope it's good enough.

Anyway, we're beginning to reach the climax of the story. I'd say there's about maybe five or six chapters left. I'm not REALLY sure though. I have them all planned out but things could change. The next chapter will be written in a slightly different way from the rest so far. You'll see what I mean when it comes. I can say though that the drama is about to mostly focus on Harry from now on. Poor kid. I have cruel things planned for him.

Thanks for reviewing, everyone! I know I didn't answer all of you, but I've been really super busy with college. I'm surprised I was able to get this chapter written.


	24. Chapter 24

I'm serious when I say that you might want to take this chapter slowly. It is very very long. You might have a brain melt before its through. Anyway, enjoy!

Seeing as fanfiction no longer supports dashes, I'll be using that big ugly space bar to represent scene changes.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The sun streamed through the window next to his bed. It shone down on his face, an ever persistent wake-up call. It caressed his cheeks, as warm as a mother's touch, urging him to open his eyes. He took a deep breath, sucking in all of the warmth he could, before exhaling it out again. His lashes fluttered a bit before his eyes opened; it took a moment to adjust to the light surrounding him, but when he did, he smiled up at the golden sky visible through his window. His curtains fluttered in the breeze, sending a chill into the room. He must have forgotten to close the window before he went to bed.

He curled his toes and wrapped his ragged blanket tighter around himself. His small mattress on the floor hardly provided comfort but he remained on it for a little while longer. He wanted to maintain a small amount of leisure for as long as possible. He just continued to stare out his window, watching the golden-orange rays filter down on him. To him, sunrise had always been a beautiful thing; not just for its wondrous colors, but also because it marked the beginnings of a new day. When the sun sets, the darkness settles in on the world, wrapping around it like a suffocating blanket. But when the sun rises, it's bright and hopeful and new. Beautiful.

Harry rolled onto his back and stretched his limbs, hearing the distinctive popping of some of his joints. He settled back against the mattress and looked up at the ceiling. It was dusty and spider-webs lingered in the corners. He slowly counted the number of spiders that lurked in the webs, six in total; he wondered what they did all day long – weren't they lonely just dangling there all that time? Maybe Harry himself was just a spider, wrapped in his own web; web of lies, deceit, pain, heartache.

He then decided that it was time to get up. It was always wise to be up before his uncle; the last time he had slept in had caused a lot of trouble with Uncle Vernon. And he didn't want any trouble today; today was, after all, a very important day. The day that his and Hermione's carefully practiced routine was to be performed in a theatre filled with people. Butterflies filled his stomach; that slight ache of nervousness swirled around and he had to clutch at his stomach for a second to make it go away.

Groaning and rubbing his eyes with his palms, he swept his blanket away from his body and sat up. He looked around his sun-lit room and spotted a jumper carefully folded on a chair in the corner. It was one of the few pieces of furniture in his room; it was always scuffed and scratched and near broken at the legs, but it still held on nonetheless. He got up from his mattress and planted his feet on the cold floor, shivering as the chill spread from his feet to the rest of his body.

He looked down at this arm, which was heavily wrapped in bandages. He lightly brushed his fingertips over it as he remembered the events that had caused the injury. He had been in an almost daze like state when the police had showed up at the scene. It took him a moment or two to realize that Draco had no longer been with him.

"_Draco?" he looked around as he continued to clutch at his blood stained arm. Police men were surrounding him, asking questions at him, but he was not paying attention. He had to look for Draco! "Where did Draco go?" He was speaking to the air, he knew, but he could not wrap his mind around the fact that Draco was not there. _

"_Young man, you need medical attention," one of the officers informed him. Harry looked up at him strangely. Medical attention? No, he needed Draco. But why was he not here? It took Harry quite a while to realize that Draco had run off, leaving him there. _

"_What is your name?" the police officer continued, persistent. Harry looked at him again before looking down._

"_Uh…" he seemed to unable to form an answer to the question. Why couldn't he remember his own name? He blinked and rubbed his face, successfully smearing blood all over it; across his cheeks and nose and onto his lips. The sharp metallic taste assaulted his senses and jump started his brain. "Harry Potter."_

_The police officer was writing something down and Harry looked behind the tall man. Blaise was being forced into a police car, along with Crabbe and Goyle. Their hands were cuffed and their eyes were hard and cold and angry. Blaise looked over to him, a face that was so ruthless and evil that it almost wasn't human. How could one person give off so many vibes of cruelty and hatred?_

_And then there were hands on him, gently guiding him to stand up. They were leading him over to an ambulance; the paramedic helping him was a kindly looking woman. Her voice was soothing and soft as she led him. She was saying something to him but his mind was too foggy to hear it correctly. She was talking but he was not hearing – he was too concerned about Draco. He needed help too._

After that, it had been a blur to Harry. The next thing he remembered clearly was waking up in the hospital.

_It smelled like medicine, floor cleaner and sick people. That was the first thing he noticed. The next was that he was lying on a rather stiff bed and a heavy blanket was atop his body. He opened his eyes and he saw a tiled ceiling and a light shining on him. He blinked a few times and cast his eyes downward. He heard the beeping of monitors and people talking – he couldn't discern what they were talking about as their voices were all muddled together._

_He then noticed that his bed was surrounded by a green curtain, shielding him from what he assumed to be other beds on either side of him. The front, however, was left open and it gave him a clear view of the activities going on outside of it. Judging from the people walking around in white lab coats or colourful scrubs, he assumed he was in a hospital._

_He quickly looked down at his arm and noticed that it had been bandaged. The bandage went up from his wrist all the way to his elbow. Had he passed out before? He didn't remember any thing that had happened from the time he had been taken in the ambulance to waking up just now._

"_Oh, Mr. Potter, you're awake." Harry snapped his attention up the person who had just walked up to his bed. He looked to be a man in his late thirties and appeared to be of Indian descent. "My name is Dr. Bhaika. How are you feeling?" He spoke in a heavy accent._

"_Good," Harry said. The doctor raised an eyebrow at him. "Tired."_

"_That's understandable," Dr. Bhaika replied. He took he pen from his coat pocket and jotted something down on a clipboard. "You lost a bit of blood and the shock must've knocked you out. You were unconscious when you arrived; we went ahead and stitched up your wound. It was a fairly deep one, so those stitches will probably have to be in for a few weeks."_

"_Stitches?" Harry asked, not quite understanding. He still felt so confused._

"_That's right," the doctor replied. "Don't worry about them. You'll be fine. In fact, after a quick check over, you'll most likely be good to go any time now."_

_Harry nodded and looked back down at his bandaged arm. He remembered Draco and wondered what had happened to him. He had been hurt too, after all. _

"_Hello, there," a man said, interrupting his thoughts, as he pushed back the curtain and appeared by Dr. Bhaika. "My name is Michael; I'm your nurse for now. If you'd just let me take your blood pressure and check your heart rate, we can get you out of here as soon as possible."_

_Harry nodded and sat up, letting the nurse go about his business. He felt him press his fingers against his wrist while looking at a watch. When he seemed to get what he was looking for, he wrapped a device around his arm, which stuck together using Velcro. After a moment it began to tighten around his arm. Harry waited patiently for the monitor to read his blood pressure. When at last it beeped and the device loosened, the nurse took it off of him and set it aside._

"_120 over 70," Michael read to him, "Very good. Just one more thing; do you know what your weight is? We like to keep it on record as medical information."_

"_Um…" Harry shook his head, at a loss for what to say. It had been so long since he had last weighed himself._

"_That's alright. Just come with me and we'll get your weight real quick." Harry got up from his bed and followed the nurse to a scale just down the hallway. Harry stepped up onto it and waited for the nurse to get his weight._

"_109 pounds," he said. Harry could almost hear the frown in his voice. "Okay, let's go back now. The doctor should be waiting for us." Harry stepped down and went back to his room with the nurse, where Dr. Bhaika was standing. Harry sat back down on his bed, looking up at the big adults with trepidation._

"_Before we can let you go, Harry," Dr. Bhaika announced, "May we ask you about those bruises along your arms?"_

"_What bruises?" Harry suddenly felt sick with nervousness and his heart began beating quickly._

"_When we rolled up your sleeves to stitch up your wound, we noticed a number of dark bruises covering both of your arms."_

"_T-they're," Harry stuttered slightly, "They're from the fight!" Dr. Bhaika raised his eyebrow again._

"_Really? Because these bruises look at least a few days old."_

"_W-well," Harry looked everywhere but at the doctor. How could he fib his way out of this one?_

"_If you wouldn't mind, we're going to have the nurse take a look at your body, just to make sure there is no serious damage done."_

"_Look at my body?" Harry almost squeaked._

"_That's right. It'll only take a few minutes. Don't worry." Dr. Bhaika smiled at him and exited the area. Michael, the nurse, closed the curtains around his bed all of the way and snapped a pair of latex gloves on his hands._

"_Just relax, Harry," Michael said, trying to ease Harry's worries, "We're just going to take a quick look, nothing more." Harry nodded and did the only thing he could do at that time; let it happen._

"_I'm going to remove your shirt, alright?" Michael helped Harry remove his shirt, carefully pulling it up through his arms and over his head. Harry closed his eyes as he felt the nurse's eyes on his exposed body. He knew what he saw; he, himself, had seen it so many times before._

_Bruises, big and small, old and new, dark and fading – they covered his abdomen, standing out sharply against his pale, pale skin. He could hear a slight intake of breath from the man next to him. It only shamed Harry even more._

"_I'm now going to look at your legs," Michael informed, hiding the emotions, if any, that he was feeling over what he was seeing. Harry noticed that his brows had lowered, and his face was one of concentration. His hands traveled down to Harry's legs and he gently lifted the legs of his trousers. Harry turned his head away, focusing on the monitoring machine next to him. He read the labels on them and tried to take his mind off of what was happening to him. He knew his legs told the same story his stomach had._

"_Harry, do you wish to tell me how these bruises came to be?" Michael asked him; Harry could feel his eyes on him, trying to penetrate his mind._

"_They were accidents," Harry said plainly and simply. He still refused to look into the nurse's eyes. He just simply counted the number of beeps he could hear coming from a machine. _

"_I see," Michael said with a sigh as he carefully covered Harry's legs again. He also brought a blanket across him so his body would no longer be exposed to the cold air, and the scrutiny. "That will be all then. I'll come back in to check on you in a few minutes. I need to have a word with the doctor."_

_Harry did not acknowledge him as the nurse left him alone. He simply continued to stare off into space; how could he have let this happen? What if he was found out? His uncle would be so angry._

Harry sighed when he heard movement from the room down the hall from his. His uncle must be awake. He quickly stood up and grabbed the jumper from the chair, pulling it on over his sleeping shirt and walking from the room.

* * *

Mornings were never kind to Draco; no matter how many hours of sleep he received the night before, he was still exhausted the next morning. Perhaps, carrying the world on your shoulders left you tired, always. It was an unavoidable burden that could not just be lifted. When the sun peeked over the horizon, it was only a sign for Draco to prepare for the agonizing hours ahead of him.

Waking up on a stone cold kitchen floor didn't help the situation or his mood. His eyes opened just in time to see the sun-light creep across the floor. The kitchen window was dingy and dusty but it still spread light throughout the cramped room. He coughed, probably having caught a chill from sleeping in such a place, and sat up. He wiped some lingering drool from his mouth and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

A sharp pain stabbed through his arm and flooded his memory with images of yesterday's events. He grabbed his shoulder and gritted his teeth. Bringing his hand back and inspecting his arm, he noticed that the bandages had been stained red with his blood. He needed to change the bandage and clean the wound again before infection started to settle in.

He moved his legs so that he was kneeling on his knees; his arm was still sore and his head felt groggy, like a headache was about to form. He forced his body into a standing position and looked around; 'aspirin' he thought as his eyes searched the room 'I need aspirin'. He walked over to the kitchen cupboards and opened them, looking through the bare space for anything to soothe his already pounding head.

He knew there were a few headache and migraine medications around somewhere; his father always kept one or two bottles around for his hangovers. The man would pop them like they were hard candy; sometimes Draco almost wished his father would just overdose on them and die. It was an awful thought, he knew, but it wasn't like it'd ever happen. At least, it hadn't yet.

When at last he located a little bottle with only a few left inside, he unscrewed the cap and swallowed a couple dry. He sighed and rubbed his head before inspecting his arm again. He better re-bandage it before it was time to go to work. 'Work' he thought with a grimace. He knew he wasn't up for anything strenuous but it wasn't like his life could take a day off just because he was injured.

He walked into the bathroom again, vaguely noticing the mess he had made the previous night. He picked up the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and looked inside of it. There was a bit left over that hadn't spilt out. He set that on the sink next to the roll of gauze. He then proceeded to peel off his sweaty and bloody t-shirt and tossed it to the ground. He unraveled the gauze from around his arm, winching ever so slightly when the blood had stuck to the fabric and pulled at his wound.

He looked at it and was relieved to see that it didn't look infected or anything. He snatched up a rag and wetted it and began blotting at the dried blood. When he got a clean view of the wound, he sighed in relief. It didn't look as bad as it had the night before; it must have just been all that blood. He had almost felt afraid he might bleed to death.

He shook his head and walked out of the bathroom for a moment. He snatched his waiter clothes from his room (he kept them neatly folded atop his dresser at all times) and went back to the bathroom. He set the clothes down on the sink and took a good look at himself in the mirror. He was almost afraid of his own reflection. Dried blood everywhere; giant bruises adorning his cheeks and eyes; a busted lip and greasy, messy hair. Oh yes, he boss would definitely appreciate it if he walked into the restaurant looking like this.

He turned on the shower faucet and let the water warm up while he stripped off the rest of his clothing. He looked at the blood stained clothing and wondered what he should do with them. He decided to worry about that later, though, and went about cleaning himself enough to be presentable.

The water stung at his arm but he scrubbed his body free from caked dirt and blood and made careful not to aggravate his wound too much. When he was finished he cleaned and wrapped his arm again, dressed in his work clothes – a long sleeved white button shirt and black trousers – combed his hair, brushed his teeth, and put on his shoes. At least now, looking at his reflection again, he didn't look quite so monstrous.

Looking at his watch, he noticed he had ten minutes to get down to the restaurant. He grabbed his keys, his coat and his wallet before bolting out the front door. He hurried down the steps and practically sprinted across the street, barely watching out for traffic. Some would say he had an early death wish. His arm wasn't helping the situation at all; every stride he took, his arm would twinge and sear with pain.

When he arrived at the restaurant he stopped and caught his breath for a second, not much liking the idea of bursting in all worn out. He smoothed his hair back and straightened his uniform before walking calmly inside. It was three minutes after the start of his shift.

"Ooooh, you're late again, Draco," a female voice mocked as he tied his apron around his waist and clocked in. It was Mindy, a waitress currently carrying a tray of dishes to a table.

"No kidding, Mindy," Draco said in return, not paying much attention to her. He went to his assigned tables and took the orders of his customers, plastering on a false smile and air of friendliness. It was always hard working with people; they expected you to be friendly, open, fast, and good. Draco wasn't always all of those things, so it was extra work for him to pretend to be those things.

"So why are you late this time?" Norma, one of the other waitresses who worked the same shift, asked. Draco was picking up one of his orders and looked at her.

"I had to wash my uniform," he lied. He didn't want to tell her that it was really because he woke up late from sleeping on the kitchen floor. And that he had needed to clean a stab wound he had gotten the day before.

"Did you, uh, throw yourself in the wash as well?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. It was obvious she was looking over the bruises on his face.

"Don't be stupid," Draco said as he balanced his trays and walked back into the dining area. He put on his smile again as he approached his table and set the dishes down in front of the people.

"If there's anything else you need, don't hesitate to ask," he told them before leaving them to their meals. He wiped his hands on his apron and headed back into the kitchen to grab the next order.

"Really, Draco, you do look a wreck," Norma said when she stood next to him. "Get into a fight again?"

"None of your business," Draco snapped and placed a bowl of soup and a salad on the tray. He picked it up and was about ready to turn around and head out again when the door swung open, hitting him in his wounded arm. He cried out as his arm practically exploded with searing hot pain. He dropped the tray, sending it crashing to the floor, and grabbed his arm.

"Draco, are you okay?" Mindy and Norma asked him as they walked up to him.

"What is going on in here?" another voice said over their question. It was his boss, striding over to him with a look of anger on his face. "What happened here? You again, Malfoy? Must you cost me more money than you bring in?"

"I'm sorry," Draco said, gritting his teeth in both pain and annoyance. "It was an accident."

"I don't want to hear it. I'm docking the price of the damage from your check. Clean this up and get back to work. All of you!"

Everyone hurried back to their business as Draco bent down and cleaned up the mess he had made. Luckily, only the bowl had broken and the shards were rather large so it was easy to clean up. He dumped it into the rubbish bin and picked up the re-made order.

When his break time had come, it was a major relief. On top of being tired and sore from getting so little sleep, his arm was now constantly bugging him. He really needed to soothe his frazzled nerves.

He went out the back door and took out a cigarette.

'Sweet nicotine,' he thought in contentment as he lit it and brought it to his lips. He took one long sweet blissful drag and his whole demeanor calmed instantly. He sighed, releasing the gray smoke into the air with it. He leaned against the wall of the restaurant and gazed up at the sky. It was a bright day, a rarity at this time of the year. He licked his already dry lips and flicked some ashes to the ground. He crossed his arms over his chest and let his head fall back and rest against the wall behind him.

With his eyes closed and his cigarette dangling precariously from his fingers, he let himself drift off a bit. He was still aware of the world around him, but not in the sense that he felt like he was still a part of it. Now he was just drifting between worlds, between the world of reality and the world of dreams.

* * *

Harry dumped the rubbish into the bin and placed the broom by the sink. He sighed and stretched his arms over his head and let out a big yawn. Letting his arms drop down again, he looked around at all that he still had to do.

His uncle hadn't been in a particularly good mood when he had gotten up that morning. Harry did all that his uncle demanded of him in hopes of keeping the man in a good mood. He didn't want to make him any angrier than he already was.

_"Hello again, Harry," Dr. Bhaika greeted as he walked into the room with Michael right behind him. "May we talk for a bit?"_

_"What about?" Harry asked cautiously, looking between the two adults._

_"Just a little chat," Dr. Bhaika said, "about these bruises all over your body."_

_"I told you already, they were accidents." Harry wrapped his arms around his stomach protectively. He didn't like the way they were looking at him._

_"Yes, we are aware that you told us that. However, if they had, say, come from another source, you would tell us, right?"_

_"What do you mean?" Harry said suspiciously._

_"If someone had hurt you, would you trust us enough to tell us?"_

_"I don't know what you're talking about. They. Were. Accidents."_

_Dr. Bhaika sighed, "This amount of bruising is really too much to overlook, Harry. How could this have been an accident?"_

_"I'm really clumsy," Harry told them._

_"Oh? How so?"_

_"I…I fall a lot and run into...things."_

_"So much as to cause this much injury to yourself? Harry, can you really expect us to believe that?"_

_"Yes, because it's the truth."_

_Dr. Bhaika looked at the nurse and gave an exasperated look._

_"Alright, Harry. Excuse us for a moment while the nurse and I have a talk. Alright?"_

_Harry nodded and the two men walked just outside of the curtain. Even though they had closed it, Harry could still hear their conversation._

_"There's nothing we can do if he doesn't admit it," he heard Dr. Bhaika say._

_"It's obvious something is going on with this boy. He has bruises all over his body and he's underweight for his size and age."_

_"We'll have to notify the authorities of suspected child abuse."_

_"Shall I call the boy's guardians?"_

_"Yes, it'd be best if they're here as well." Harry's heart skipped a beat. Uncle Vernon? Here? This wasn't going to be good._

_"We have his information on file somewhere; I'll go look it up."_

_"Thank you." _

_Harry was left feeling anxious and terrified._

He scrubbed furiously at the kitchen floor, trying in vain to rid it of all of the scuff and dirt marks. The thistles of the scrubber made a brushing sound against the tiles and his back ached from being in such a bent over position. His knees hurt from their position on the floor and his hands were soapy and wet from the water.

When he did the best he could do on a particular spot, he sat back on his knees and took a breather. He wiped his face of sweat and plopped the scrubber into the bucket of water next to him. Wiping his hands on his already wetted shirt, he grabbed the bucket and moved to the next area that needed a clean. Soapy water sloshed down his front as the bucket slipped in his grip. A chill went up and down his body from the cooling water.

'I guess I can never have just a bit of luck,' Harry thought as he grabbed the scrubber again and continued working. He watched as his hands worked in a circular motion, scrubbing and scrubbing. His eyes followed every movement, cautiously watching out for any dirt that may have accidentally been left unattended to. Water soaked through the knees of his jeans and he felt blisters begin to form on his fingers from such a tight grip he had on the brush.

'Is this all I'll ever be?' he thought to himself. He stuck his tongue out between his lips as he worked particularly furiously on a shoe mark. Sweat dripped from his forehead and down his face. 'Will I be a servant, a house slave forever?'

_"My name is Officer Brown," a tall man with friendly brown eyes greeted, "How are you doing, Harry?"_

_"Um, fine," Harry said carefully, eyeing the man._

_"Good, good. Is your uncle here?" the man asked, looking around his bed for any signs of his guardian._

_"His uncle has yet to arrive. We contacted him a few minutes ago; he told us he'd be here."_

_"Ah, good. We can wait a few moments, eh Harry?" The officer looked at him and smiled. "Mind if I take a seat?"_

_Harry shrugged and shook his head. Officer Brown smiled and took a seat in a chair by his bed. Harry felt on his guard with all of these people around; his shoulders and back were tense and straight. His eyes kept darting around, as if waiting for his uncle to pop out of nowhere. He really didn't like this._

_"So you go to school, right Harry?" Officer Brown asked him, obviously trying to lighten the mood with a few questions._

_"Yeah," Harry answered._

_"Do you get good grades?"_

_"They're fair."_

_"That's good to hear. Do you have a lot of friends?"_

_"A couple," Harry said slowly, wondering what the man was getting at._

_"I bet you hang around with them a lot."_

_"They are my friends. That's what friends do."_

_"Indeed. What about your family?"_

_"What about them?"_

_"Do you spend a lot of quality time with your uncle?"_

_"I…well…sometimes," Harry replied, feeling incredibly nervous all of a sudden._

_"Say, why don't you tell me about your uncle."_

_"What do you want to know?" Harry asked._

_"What does he do for a living?"_

_"Well…uh…" But it had so happened that Harry had been saved the trouble of answering said question by the arrival of his uncle. Speak of the devil._

_"Where is he?" It was a chilling growl that could possibly come from only one person. He heard some nurses telling where Uncle Vernon could find Harry, and in the next moment the large man was standing at the foot of his bed._

_"There you are," he spat, "How dare you cause so much trouble! Good for nothing boy; always causing me problems." Harry shrunk back, trying to disappear into his pillows._

_"Excuse me, Mr. Dursley?" Officer Brown cut in. Harry's uncle's head swiveled around to face the officer. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the man._

_"Yes? Who are you?" he asked impatiently._

_"My name is Officer Brown. If you may, I'd like to ask you a few questions."_

_"Questions? What sort of questions?" Uncle Vernon demanded. He gave Harry a very dangerous look, as if demanding how he dared do this._

_"Well, there was some suspicious bruising all across the boy's body. The medical staff here was concerned."_

_"How should I know about this? Why don't you ask him? He's always getting into trouble, causing problems. Ask him how those bruises got there."_

_"I already told them it was an accident, Uncle," Harry said timidly. He sure hoped none in the room could hear the rapid thumping of his heart. It would surely give him away._

_"There, you heard the boy, now get your stuff, Harry, we're leaving." Harry quickly scrambled out of the bed and was prepared to leave when Officer Brown held out an arm to stop him._

_"Hold on a minute, Harry," he said, "I'd like to ask another question."_

_"I'm not answering any more bloody questions. You call me out of my busy schedule to come and pick up this troublesome boy, and now you want to ask me some questions? I don't have the time for this nonsense. Let's. Go. Harry."_

_Officer Brown ignored Uncle Vernon and turned to Harry. He placed his hand on the boy's shoulder and looked him square in the eye._

_"Are you sure you don't have anything you wish to tell me?" He asked him in a very serious tone. Harry looked into the man's eyes, almost begging with his own. He tried to tell the man with his eyes what his lips wouldn't. But it didn't seem to work. Instead, with a defeated and broken heart, he shook his head._

_"No," he answered. "I'm positive." Officer Brown looked disappointed and concerned. It was obvious he knew he couldn't do anything if Harry didn't tell him. He couldn't prove those bruises were of abuse._

_"Alright, you're free to go. Thank you for your time, Mr. Dursley." Vernon just gruffed impatiently. The officer reached into his breast pocket and pulled out something. He pressed it into Harry's palm and patted his hand._

_"Call me, any time, any day, if you need me," he whispered. "That has my office and home phone numbers."_

_Harry looked at the paper in his hand and nodded, slipping it into his pocket._

_"Let's get going, Boy," Uncle Vernon growled angrily._

_"Coming, Uncle," Harry said and followed in defeat._

It had been his escape; the door had been opened, offering him a way out, but he had turned it away. He had shut the door himself, placing his own self, once again, into his uncle's hands.

He couldn't complain about his fate anymore; he had chosen this, after all. He dipped the rag in the water and rung it out before continuing washing the windows. They were thick with dust and cobwebs. He made little clean circles with his rag, all the while watching his reflection in the window. He stared out onto the streets as people walked by; he could just make out a little sunny yellow flower growing through the cracks in the sidewalk. People walked around it, over it and even on it. How sad, he thought, to see such a little thing die under the feet of so many people. Sometimes he felt like that flower; being squashed under the weight of his uncle's anger and hate.

When he was finished with the window, he threw the rag down and stood up to stretch his back. He bent it backwards, popping it a few times before straightening again. He looked at the clock on the wall and noticed it was nearly time for school. He just needed to finish the laundry, which he had scrubbed yesterday; he had forgotten to take them down the night before, but hopefully his uncle wouldn't realize that.

He grabbed the fresh linen and walked down the hallway. He heard the shower running and knew that it was his uncle in there. On his way, he took a peek into Dudley's room and heard the boy snoring. He hadn't gotten up yet.

He knocked on the open door while he balanced the linen in one arm.

"Dudley, you need to wake up for school," Harry called. Dudley merely snorted and rolled over. Harry clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes; pushing the door farther open, he set the sheets in the hall and walked inside the semi-dark room. He approached his large cousin and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Dudley, get up, seriously," Harry said. "I'll get in trouble if you aren't up for school."

"Go away," Dudley grunted and swatted Harry's hand away.

"Get up, now!" Harry was losing his patience.

"Alright, alright," Dudley said, slowly sitting up in his bed. He scratched the back of his head and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "Keep your pants on."

"Good. I'll make breakfast." With that, Harry exited the room and picked up the laundry. He carried it into his uncle's room and swiftly changed the bed sheets before his uncle came back. He smoothed out all the wrinkles and placed all the pillows in clean cases. He tucked the blankets under the mattress and threw the comforter over it. When he was finished, he was about ready to leave the room when he remembered something; walking back into the quiet room, he dug something out of the pocket of his jumper.

He placed two crisp tickets for the show that night onto his uncle's dresser: one for Vernon and one for Dudley. He didn't expect them to come, but he still offered anyway – they were family after all.

* * *

"Draco, can you take this for me? Table six," Norma asked as she held out a tray of drinks. "I need to take care of this table."

"Yeah, sure," Draco said and took the tray from the woman's hand. His shoulder was protesting quite painfully at working too much and he tried to use his right arm as much as possible.

"Hey Draco, is something wrong with your left arm?" Norma asked him when he returned with his empty tray.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you usually use your left, but today you're using your right a lot. What's up?"

"Nothing, I'm just a little sore there."

"It was from fighting, wasn't it?"

"I…" Draco was cut off as Norma spun him around to get a good look at his shoulder. He didn't particularly much appreciate being handled like such, but he merely slumped his shoulders and let it happen. He heard Norma gasp.

"You're bleeding, Draco!" she almost cried out. Luckily she held herself back; it wouldn't be such a great thing to suddenly have all eyes on him.

"What?" Draco asked, eyebrows raised – did his wound reopen? He tilted his head to get a good look at his shoulder and sure enough, a bright red spot was forming through his white uniform shirt.

'Great,' he thought. It must have happened when the door slammed into him.

"What happened?" she asked him with concern. She grabbed his arm and walked him into the back room; it wouldn't due to have the customers witness something like this.

"I was stabbed," Draco said simply, surprising even him. Since when did he confess everything to his co-workers?

"Stabbed?" Norma gasped. "You need to get that checked out by a doctor immediately! It could be infected."

"I cleaned it," Draco informed her.

"But still! It could need stitches. You need to go. Now. I'll tell the boss what happened."

"But I…"

"No buts," Norma shushed him. She dug around in her apron pocket and produced a few paper bills. She shoved them into his hands. "Take a cab there; don't worry. I got everything covered. I'd go with you but it'd be both of our hides if I did."

"Alright, fine, but if I get fired…"

"You won't. I promise."

Draco nodded and removed his apron before heading out of the restaurant. He hailed down a taxi, covering his wound with his hand as to not scare anybody with the blood. When he arrived at the hospital, he looked around and felt his heart sink. This was the last place he had seen his mother alive. It was her dying place and it made him feel sick. But, fighting back this onslaught of nausea, he walked into the emergency room and told the lady at the front desk that he needed medical attention for his arm.

"Do you think you can fill out these forms?" she asked him. He nodded and took the clipboard and pen and sat down in one of the chairs. He filled out all the necessary information: Name, birth date, address and emergency contact. He thought for a moment, contemplating whether or not he wanted his father's name on that form. After a while, he decided against it and scribbled Severus's name on it instead.

He gave the form back to the woman and she told him that she'd call him back in a little bit. Draco nodded and sat back down in his chair, letting his head fall back as he clutched his arm. He was so exhausted and weak; he didn't know why he did these things to himself. He wished he could change for the better; but change wasn't exactly easy. At least fifteen minutes had passed before it was his turn.

"Draco Malfoy?" the woman called to him. He stood up and followed her into a room behind her desk.

"I'll just take your blood pressure and get your weight before I can get you with a doctor." He sat down in a chair and she took his blood pressure, which she jotted down on his form before having him stand on a scale.

"131 pounds," she told him. Draco realized he had lost some weight since the last time he'd been weighed. "Now just come with me, we'll put you in the back until a doctor can see you."

Draco nodded and followed her. She led him down a hallway, through some double doors and into another room with medical staff, beds and patients everywhere. She walked him over to an empty bed and told him to sit there.

"If you could remove your clothing, we'll get you into a gown so we can get a proper look at your arm." She bent down and opened up a cabinet near his bed and dug out a pale green hospital gown. "You can keep your trousers on, but remove your shirt. Put your clothing and items in this bag." She showed him a plastic bag before setting it down with the gown. "I'll be back in a few moments to check up on you."

Draco peeled his work shirt off, clicking his tongue softly at the blood stain. It's going to be killer trying to get that out. He folded it neatly and set it in the bag he had been given. He picked up the gown and set it on his lap as he sat down. Taking a good look at his arm now, he noticed that there were blood trails all down his arm. He should have known that wrapping it wouldn't have been good enough. He pulled the gown on over his head, careful not to drag it across all of the blood and waited for someone to come back.

He looked around his bed and noticed a few medical machines set up next to it. One, he assumed, was to constantly monitor heart rates while the other one took blood pressure. There was a stand that IV's were kept on and a place where clean bed sheets and extra pillows were kept. One painting decorated the otherwise bleak walls; it appeared to have been drawn by a kid – it depicted the ocean surrounded by mountains; little checkmarks the represented seagulls were flying off in the distance and the sun was setting behind squiggly lined clouds. In the corner, the name Anthony Williams was written in black crayon.

"I see you're admiring our artwork," a man's voice said. Draco turned around and faced him. He was in a white lab coat, so he assumed this was the doctor. He had his hands in his pockets and he was smiling at the painting. "One of cancer patients drew that at a camp several years ago. Though, I'm sad to say that that boy died last year."

"Oh," was all that Draco said. He looked down at his hands and frowned.

"Cancer is an ugly thing," the doctor sighed and walked closer to the bed.

'I know that,' Draco thought. He had experienced first hand what cancer could do to a loved one.

"Anyway, I'm Dr. Andrews. Let's get started shall we?" He grabbed two latex gloves out of the box on the table and pulled them on. "It says that you have a stab wound to the arm. When did this happen?"

"Yesterday," Draco admitted.

"Yesterday? Why didn't you come to us then?"

"I didn't think I needed to."

"Well, let me just take a look at it and see what needs to be done."

Dr. Andrews examined Draco's arm carefully.

"Well, no infection is apparent; however, the wound itself is rather deep. It would take awhile for it to heal on its own. You'll need stitches to make sure it doesn't open constantly and allow infection to settle in."

"Okay," Draco said, nodding. He just wanted to get out of here.

"Just give me a few minutes to get ready and we'll get started right away."

* * *

He was leaning against the tree; that tree where they had met that time – the giant oak tree that was planted in the middle of the school yard, the one that provided perfect shading in the summer time and a quiet place to sit during breaks.

He had his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms resting across them, with his hands linked together. He stared up at the sky as the few clouds rolled across it. A slight breezed picked up every now and then, and provided a soothing caress against his hot face.

It felt especially empty to sit there all alone, knowing that this was the tree that Draco usually sat underneath. Of course, he hadn't seen the boy there in quite awhile now, considering he no longer went to this school. But Harry liked to sit there now, taking Draco's place, as a sort of reminder of the other boy. No one else came over there, so he was usually left unbothered.

He wanted nothing more than be next to Draco; it had been so long since he had felt this way about another person. There was this constant suffocating pain within his chest whenever he thought about Draco. He didn't know how to stop it or why it hurt so much but a part of him knew that it was a good thing. He had thought about it and figured that this is what people called love. Love was painful and great all at the same time.

He hadn't seen Draco since the incident and he wondered how he was doing. He kind of wished he would just come by and let him know that he was alright. Harry felt constantly worried that Draco might be collapsed on the ground somewhere, bleeding to death or something. It was a frightening thought; one that Harry tried to keep at bay. To him, it was prudent to keep happy thoughts at all times. There was no other way he could get through life if he didn't try to think on the bright side.

But even the bright side dulled on occasion; sitting there and thinking about all that he was and all that he wanted to be; Harry couldn't help but see Draco there with him through it all. Was it so bad that Harry wanted a boy instead of a girl? Society didn't always accept the strange and unusual, and well, this was pretty strange and unusual.

He had never really thought toward the future; he tried to focus more on the present and forget about the past. His future had been nothing but a hazy fog in his mind but now, now he could almost see something. A future with another person by his side.

He exhaled loudly and rested his chin against his hands. He looked down at his feet and tapped his foot against the grass. It was so hard, sometimes. Everything seemed so very, very hard. Sometimes he didn't even know why he tried. Could he really strive for such a future?

He perked his head up when he spotted something sprouting up through the grass. Dropping his hands, he got onto his knees and crawled over to it. When he reached it, he stopped until he was almost hovering over it. It was a little white flower; he usually saw them in the spring time all over the place, but at such a time of the year they were rare to see. He couldn't believe he had spotted it.

Lowering himself to his stomach, he crossed his arms and laid his head on them as he looked at the flower. It swayed and bent in the slight breeze, its delicate little petals fluttering so beautifully. He let his legs kick back and forth as he laid there, wondering about the little plant. Every breath he took caused the flower to crinkle just a little bit – he smiled at it. Reaching out, he gently touched the petals, feeling their velvety softness and wishing he could take the flower with him. But he did not want to rob it of its young life. He knew it'd probably be cut or trampled on by the end of the day, but he wanted to relish in the fact that it was not him that had done it.

He picked himself up when the bell rang, signaling the end of break. He brushed himself off and whispered a goodbye to the flower. He liked to think to himself that the flower had heard, and that maybe the way its petals moved when the wind picked up again was its way of waving goodbye.

* * *

"There you go, Mr. Malfoy," the doctor said as the last stitch was sewn into his flesh. The nurse next to him cut off the remaining string and bandaged up his shoulder as the doctor stood up. "Come back in about three weeks to have those removed." He shook hands with Dr. Andrews and then the man left.

"Okay, so," the nurse said as she picked up a brown paper bag. "Inside are instructions on how to take care of your sutures and a medicinal gel that you need to apply every day to keep away infection, and to keep the skin from growing over the sutures."

Draco took the bag from her hands and thanked her.

"Well, that's all. You're free to leave once you get dressed. Would you like us to call anyone to come and get you?"

"No…" was his automatic response, "Uh wait…yes."

"Is their information on your form?"

"Yes, under emergency contact."

"I'll give them a call. You may sit out in the waiting room; we're all done here."

Draco nodded; he got dressed once the woman left and folded the gown, leaving it atop the examination table. He left the room and waited in the area she had told him. It was about twenty-five minutes before his ride arrived. Severus came through the doors of the waiting room and looked around until he spotted Draco. He waved for Draco to follow him, which he did. Once they were outside in the parking lot did Severus start to question him.

"What in heavens name happened?" he asked. "No, wait, I think it's best that you don't tell me."

"I'm sorry, Severus," Draco said. "I had no one else I could call."

"They called me at the school, telling me that you needed me to come and pick you up at the emergency room. Do you have any idea what went through my head when I received such a call?"

"I'm sorry," Draco said once again, his head bowed and eyes averted. He hated it whenever he upset Severus. They climbed into Severus's car and he started up the engine; Draco noticed that no music or talk shows immediately started up when the car did – he figured that Severus just preferred the silence.

"I'll drop you by my place while I'm at work; I expect you'll stay out of trouble?"

"Yes, Severus," Draco affirmed.

"Good." The drive was silent and all Draco could listen to was the soft rumble of the engine and the wind whipping past just outside. He looked up through the window and noticed that a few darkish clouds were coming in from the east. They stretched and spread across the sky, wishing to overpower it and blacken it out.

He was dropped off at Severus's place without as much as a word of goodbye. The man opened the door for him, left and locked the door behind him. Draco stood there in the silent room and listened to Severus's receding footsteps. When it was again completely still and quiet, he looked around and wondered what he was supposed to do now.

* * *

He picked up the last book on the cart and shelved it in its proper place. He realized that he had done all of his tasks early today; perhaps Ms. Pince would let him leave early. All he had to do now was wait for her to return; she had gone out to deal with an order of books and kept him in charge. He walked towards the front of the shop and sat down in a big comfy chair by the window. He brought his legs up and curled them underneath himself. He leaned against the back of the chair and stared out the window. Looking up, he noticed that the sky was darkening; it was mid-afternoon and the sun was already beginning its descent. Dark storm clouds were taking their place in the sky, dominating the places where the sun could not reach.

He tapped his finger against the window, feeling its coldness against his flesh. He followed the trail of soaring birds with his finger, watching as they flew up, up, and up into the sun in one big flock. They were nothing but black dots against the dark blue-gray sky, beautiful dots that went where they pleased, when they pleased.

'If I were a bird,' Harry thought, 'I'd use my wings all day long. I'd go everywhere I dreamed and no one would care.'

But he wasn't a bird, he was just a boy. A boy with a few dreams, maybe, but just a boy. And his dreams were hopeless ones.

He made a humming noise in the back of his throat as the birds flew out of sight and he sagged against the chair. He almost felt like pouting; the birds had left him behind. Not that he had really expected them to even hear his wishful thinking or anything.

"Harry," Ms. Pince said as she walked through the door. Harry looked up from his spot. "What are you doing, dear? Are you all finished?"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry nodded, "I was just waiting for you to come back."

"I suppose you'll want to leave early then?"

"If you don't mind; I have a performance I need to get ready for."

"Oh, that's tonight is it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"How wonderful. Are you nervous?"

"Very much," Harry told her. That butterfly feeling in his stomach had been constant throughout the day.

"You'll do wonderfully. I wish you good luck. Tell that to Hermione as well."

"I will."

"That's a good boy. You may leave, then."

"Thank you." Harry watched as the woman walked out of sight before turning back to the window. He had turned just in time to see one fat rain drop splash against the window and roll down the glass.

'I guess it'll rain tonight,' he thought to himself as he unfolded his legs and stood up. He needed to get back to his house to pick up his things before heading over to Hermione's. He hoped he would beat the rain there.

* * *

Something cold and wet fell onto his face. His eyes fluttered open to stare up at the sky. Apparently, he had drifted off to sleep out on the fire escape. It was known to happen from time to time. After Severus had left him there alone, he picked out a book like usual and climbed onto the fire escape. After a time, though, his eyes had begun to feel heavy and he was having trouble keeping his head up.

That was the last thing he remembered before he had been woken up. He brought his hand up to his face and wiped his cheek off. He looked at his finger tips and saw that they were wet. It must've been a rain drop. Looking up at the sky again, he noticed that the dark clouds from earlier were more prominent. They must have moved in while he was sleeping. He yawned and stretched his arms above his head, being careful of his stitched arm though. He rubbed his shoulder with his hand and stared out onto the city streets.

The day had started off a bit weird but had pretty much melded into a lazy afternoon. Despite the cold wind that was picking up and the ominous looking clouds, it was rather peaceful outside. Even the usually city noise seemed distant and calmer.

He looked down at the book in his lap; the pages were being turned and rustled by the wind. He placed a hand atop it to keep the pages from crinkling or ripping and shut the book altogether.

Breathing in the air, he wrapped his arms around his body to retain as much warmth as possible. He didn't feel like getting up and grabbing a blanket or a heavier coat. He just wanted to sit right there and maintain a semblance of peace within himself. He watched the clouds closely, the way they swirled and moved so slowly that it was almost shocking that they had spread so fast.

When they had gathered enough water, they decided to let some out. A few sprinkles dropped onto Draco, splashing onto his face, hands, shoulders, legs, and feet. Hundreds of little tiny drops came falling from the sky as he looked up at it. He blinked when they hit his face and he relished in the coolness of them. He brought his hands up and held them open, letting the water collect into his palms. He smiled as he continued to face skyward, not a care that he was starting to get too wet or that he might catch a chill. Sometimes, trivial things such as those didn't matter. Like right now. They just didn't matter.

He almost laughed at himself right then; he was being everything that he had once despised in a person - being happy, free and at peace with oneself. He used to think those things were frivolous and unimportant. If only his past self could see him now. What would he have thought?

He suddenly was reminding himself of Harry. Harry was always embracing freedom, always striving for happiness, always bringing peace into himself. Draco had always seen the way that boy had looked off to the distance; that longing in his eyes, the longing to tear of the shackles of society and go wherever he wanted to go, be whoever he wanted to be, and feel whatever he wanted to feel. And Draco finally understood that. Lowering his hands from their outstretched position he stared out at the maple tree. Droplets of water fell from the leaves like tears and fell against the iron bars of the escape.

He now understood everything that Harry was to him.

And then his heart suddenly leapt in his chest. He remembered suddenly that Harry had invited him to a performance tonight. He had forgotten all about. Scrambling to his feet, he dashed into the house.

…Harry.

* * *

"Did you go into my room, Boy?" Uncle Vernon's thunderous voice caused Harry to jump and his heart to stop in fear.

"W-what?" Harry asked, terrified. What did he do now?

"I asked, did you go in my room?" Vernon's voice was now a low, menacing growl. It meant that Harry was not to trifle with his uncle. Not today. Not now.

His uncle showed him the tickets he had placed in his room earlier.

"Yes," Harry said, his whole body trembling, "I-I was in there changing your bed sheets and I just…"

"Shut up!" his uncle roared. He slapped Harry across the face, sending the poor boy tumbling into the wall. Harry grabbed his face and looked up at the large man. "How dare you. How. Dare. You."

"I'm sorry, Uncle!" Harry cried out.

"You're damn right you're sorry," his uncle said through clenched teeth. He grabbed Harry's shirt and tossed the boy across the room. "You will never dare to go into my room and leave your things there, ever again."

Harry curled up into ball, his arms over his head and his knees drawn up to his chest. He needed to protect himself from the enraged man.

'Leave your body,' Harry told himself over and over again in his mind as the man started on him. He felt the kicks and the punches, but they had dulled somewhat. He kept his head turned away from his uncle at all times; he knew that to lay eyes on his abuser was to bring back the reality. He, instead, focused on the patterns of the wall paper.

'Go to a far off place,' Harry thought again and again, 'go there, go there.'

His uncle dropped him to the ground, another kick to the stomach, knocking all air out of his body. He wheezed and coughed, clutching painfully at his stomach. But his eyes never met his uncle's and it was okay. It was okay as long as he never looked into his face while he did these things. At least then he could pretend it wasn't happening. Only then could he forgive.

'You're a bird, you're a bird,' Harry thought, rocking himself. 'Fly, fly away.'

And he was flying. He went soaring through the air; but instead of flying off into the distance, he merely crashed into the wall and slid to the floor. He fell to his hands and knees, coughing. He brought a shaking hand up to his face and wiped the blood from his busted lip. He was bruised and he was sore and he was in pain.

"Get out of my sight," his uncle scoffed, tearing up the tickets and throwing them at Harry. They rained down around him like some morbid form of confetti, shredding his hopes and breaking his heart. "Go on, get out of here."

With a trembling body, he crawled towards the door. His hand reached out to snatch the bag he had come for and he braced himself against the door. He used it as support to help him stand; right now he couldn't attest as to whether anything was broken or not – the only thing on his mind was getting out of there. Once he was on his feet and his bag was securely in his hands, he turned the knob and opened the door. The wind met his face, wrapping around him and prodding at his wounds. He looked back into the house; he saw his uncle's back to him as the man stumbled down the hall. Facing the doorway again, he wiped a few stray tears from his face and ran. He ran and ran; he ran so far.

* * *

It was cold and he was numb. But that wasn't what he cared about most just then. It wasn't going to stop him from reaching his destination. Even though a thousand raindrops were hitting him like spikes, he could not find the strength to stop. So he kept going; running along the streets with his soaked socks and his frozen legs screaming to stop but his mind screaming to keep going.

He had to get home. He had left his ticket there. He had forgotten all about it through the many things that had happened that day. He had enough time, he knew, to get there, grab the ticket, head to the theatre and still make it. He just had to make sure that he didn't stop.

It was lucky that there were so few people out on the roads that day. Perhaps they were trying to avoid the oncoming rain, or perhaps they knew, just somehow, that he needed to be somewhere. That he needed to be able to run and not stop; so they decided to just stay out of his way. It was the world's way of saying "Go Draco, run and don't stop. Go to him!"

When his own house came into view, he almost shouted out in joy and frustration. He bounded up the steps, taking them two at a time and burst through the front door.

* * *

The music was soft and melodic. It was coming from a beautiful lacquer box with a depiction of the Degas Ballet class on the lid. The tune, he recognized, was Swan Lake. Inside, it was lined with soft black velvet – a few lone rings and other assorted jewelry lay inside, sparkling and gleaming in their glory.

The soft tinkling music stopped when he gently closed the lid. The baby in his arms grabbed at the music box with his chubby little hands. Harry smiled and cradled McKinley close to him.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Harry whispered softly to the baby boy. McKinley merely gurgled in response, rubbing his hands all over the glossy finish. It was Hermione's music box; she had had it for awhile and it was also one of Harry's favorites of all of her glamorous possessions. He was sitting in her chair next to her vanity table, holding McKinley on his lap while Mrs. Granger took a rest.

Hermione was laying on her bed, her eyes closed and some kind of green goop covering her face. She had said it would help clean her face and give it a better glow. She had tried to talk Harry into using some but he had refused. It's not like he wanted to add on to the already stereotypical view of male dancers being pansies. She also had a pair of headphones over her ears so Harry knew she couldn't hear him.

"Want to hear it again?" he asked the baby with a smile. McKinley must have understood him to some degree because he curled his fingers around Harry's hands. Harry turned the music box over and wound the little key on the bottom and then opened the lid again. The music started over and filled the room again.

His body was hurting; the bruises and cuts hidden underneath his clothing and makeup never failed to remind him of what had happened. A few tears slipped out from the corner of his eyes and he squeezed McKinley closer to him. He laid his chin lightly atop the child's fuzzy head and inhaled the scent of him. It was clean and pure.

McKinley, seemingly realizing that something was wrong, looked up at Harry with his big eyes. He reached his hand up and grabbed at Harry's cheeks, almost as if asking what was wrong. Harry grabbed the baby's hands and held it close to his cheek, nuzzling against it.

"Oh, McKinley," Harry whispered, "If only you could understand." McKinley just looked at him with an odd sort of fascination before returning to the wonderment of the music box.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Granger walked into the room. Hermione took off her ear phones and sat up, looking at her.

"It's almost time to go," she announced with a proud smile. But all Harry felt was nervous and shaken. The music died down once again.

* * *

'Where is it?' he thought as he frantically searched through his dresser drawers, practically throwing clothing around the room. He got on his hands and knees and searched under every bit of furniture, through every crack and crevice, reaching into every corner and still having no luck.

He sat back on his knees and panted, looking around the room in a panic. He seemed to have misplaced his ticket. Where was it? What was he going to do if he couldn't find it?

He stood up again and ran out into the living room. He threw the cushions on the couch across the room and searched underneath the chairs. When he had seemingly overturned every bit of furniture in his desperate search, he suddenly remembered.

Getting up, he ran back into his room and grabbed his pillow. He remembered now that he had kept it inside of his pillow case for safe keeping. He knew his father sometimes came into his room, searching for cash or whatever it was he needed. He hadn't wanted to take the chance of it getting lost, ruined or even stolen by that man.

He thrust his hand inside the pillow case and felt around before his fingertips finally brushed against the sharp corner of the ticket. With an almost triumphant cry, he grabbed it and shoved it in his pocket. Throwing the pillow back down onto his bed, he grabbed his jacket (which had been thrown to the floor earlier) and ran from the room again.

Throwing the jacket over his shoulders, he reached out for the doorknob to the front door.

"Where are you going?"

Draco turned around and saw his father standing there, leaning against the entrance to the kitchen, bottle of whiskey in hand.

"Out," was all Draco said.

"You ain't goin' anywhere, not with the house looking like this. You get back in here and clean…clean this mess you made."

"Fuck off," Draco said and he wrenched the door open. He heard his father curse at him, yelling for him to come back inside, threatening him with so many cruel words. But Draco didn't listen; he was through with listening to that man. He slammed the door shut on those words.

* * *

He walked into the Melodrama, his bag over his shoulder and his hair splattered with rain. Hermione was next to him, looking around excitedly. Miss Miranda met them, greeted Hermione's parents and showed the two dancers into the back room where they would be getting ready.

Harry took his things and walked into a small bathroom. Locking the door behind him, he turned to the mirror. He set his bag on the sink and unzipped it. Pulling out the clothes in which he was to perform in, he set them out. He pulled of his t-shirt and stuffed it into the bag; looking into the mirror was like looking into a horror picture. His body was covered in bruises, marks and even a few cuts. He pulled out a white long-sleeved shirt made of spandex and put it on, careful with the dressings wrapped around his arm. Over that he pulled on a short-sleeved black button-up. Now, now no one could see his bruises, his shame – he was completely covered. After that came a pair of black, loose fitting dance trousers. His feet remained bare.

He now brought out the compact he usually carried around and applied a bit more to his face – he noticed a few bruises were beginning to show through. He noticed the way his lips became redder in comparison to his pale skin when he applied the make-up. He snapped it closed when he was done and tossed it back into bag. The last thing he brought out was a black derby hat, which he brought atop his head. He slanted it so it was covering one of his eyes. Looking into the mirror, he noticed how dark and mysterious he looked – perfect.

He zipped up his bag, grabbed it and walked out onto the backstage. There he met Hermione, who was also now dressed in her dance costume. She was wearing a white tank top and a white skirt; her hair was done in a braid, a few loose strands framing her face. The green goo from earlier must have worked – her face was practically glowing as she smiled at him. Her feet were also bare.

In comparison, they were complete opposites; black and white, dark and light, night and day. It was perfect.

"You guys are almost up," Miss Miranda told them. There were those nerves again. "Good luck."

* * *

He was running through the night; it was quiet save for the drip, drip of the rain water and the tap, tap of his shoes against the street. He barely knew where he was going; he had to stop and ask for directions several times already.

He was running down the shopping district when he was suddenly no longer on his feet. His legs had collided with something hard and now he was skidding across the ground. He blinked a few times when he came to a stop and panted, trying to make sense of had just happened.

"You're so typical, Draco. Always running, aren't you?" It was a voice that came out of no where; from the dark it approached him. Turning onto his back and sitting up, Draco looked into the face of the person to whom the voice belonged.

"Blaise," he gasped.

* * *

Bright lights shone down on him as he walked out onto the stage. The glossy wood underneath his feet sent shivers up his spine; from what those shivers came, he wasn't sure: be them from the chill or the nerves. He squinted as he looked out onto the crowd; it felt so strange to be up in a place where so many eyes could look at him, into him. So many faces were staring up at him, expecting of him, waiting for him. He felt sick.

However, he searched the crowd for familiar faces; Mr. and Mrs. Granger were there, along with McKinley who was sleeping in Mrs. Grangers arms. His eyes continued to sweep over the mass of people; his uncle and his cousin were not there, he had not expected them to be anyway. They had torn up the tickets after all. But he kept searching for that one face he wanted to see the most. But he could not find it.

And then the music started.

* * *

"What the fuck, Blaise?" Draco said, his anger flaring to new heights. How dare he do this now, of all times?

"Shut up, Draco," Blaise said calmly but coldly. Deadly. "Thanks to you I spent a whole day and night in jail. Thanks to you my mother was in hysterics over me. Thanks to you, everything's ruined."

"You've got no one to blame but yourself, Blaise," Draco said as he stood up.

"Didn't I say to shut up, Draco?" Blaise snapped. His eyes were wild and furious and almost animalistic.

"What the hell's your problem? I didn't do anything to you! You did this to yourself!"

"No, Draco. You did this. It's your fault."

"Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"You need to pay, Draco. Pay for what you did."

"I didn't do anything to you!" Draco was now panicked. He did not like the look in Blaise's eye.

"Yes you did. You left me Draco. Left me for that street rat. That trash."

"Who…what?" Draco furrowed his eyebrows. "Are you talking about Harry?"

"Bingo," Blaise said, smiling. But it was not in any way friendly or reassuring. It was completely insane. "And now you've got to pay the price."

Draco's eyes grew wide at the sight of gleaming metal being brought out from Blaise's coat.

* * *

Harry was almost frozen in his spot, even as the music started up. His eyes were still searching, searching so desperately. It was the Hermione's hand on his hip that brought him to his senses.

"Harry, we need to start," she whispered. She brought him into the proper starting position and urged him on. "It'll be alright."

Will it? Will it be alright? If that was true, then why did he feel so afraid?

* * *

"What the fuck!" Draco nearly shouted. "What the hell are you doing with that?"

"I think even you would understand that," Blaise said, looking at Draco almost emotionlessly.

"You're insane," Draco said, backing up, his hands up ready to defend himself. His eyes were looking back and forth between the gun and Blaise. "Where did you even get that?"

"I borrowed it," Blaise said, "From a friend." He raised the weapon and aimed it at Draco.

"Stop!" Draco said. "Don't do this." But Blaise was not listening. He could not be persuaded. That meant only one thing. Fight for it. He made a sudden dash at Blaise and tackled the boy to the ground. The gun went flying from his grip and skidded to a stop about two feet away. Blaise struggled to reach for it as he tried to fight Draco off. But Draco wasn't going to let him up that easily.

Blaise, however, had different plans. He kicked Draco in the face, successfully pushing the boy off of him and scrambled for the gun. Draco chased after him, desperately trying to reach the gun before him. He stretched out his arm, his fingertips brushed over the cold, wet metal before it was snatched out of his reach.

Blaise stood up and pointed the gun at Draco. Draco merely stared up from his position on the ground. His heart had apparently stopped in mid-beat. For that terrifying moment, he was sure he was going to die.

"You lose," Blaise said as he cocked the gun.

* * *

It hurt so much; the damage to his body screamed out at him. Stop. Stop! His body screamed at him. How could he continue such a vigorous activity while his body so desperately wanted to shut down? But it was not that from which he suffered so much. In his mind, he felt so defeated. Had Draco really abandoned him this time? Did he not care about him anymore? Did he find someone better, someone new, someone perfect and untouched?

With all of these thoughts in his mind, it weighed down on him like a thousand bricks. Coming out of a pirouette, his feet tangled with themselves and he tripped over his own feet. In one heart-stopping moment, he was falling. It seemed to take forever to fall and he shut his eyes, not wanting to see. And then his body met the ground. He heard the gasp of the crowd as he slid across the floor. The music came to a halt and the whole of the theatre was quiet as they stared.

Draco squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the sound of his death. He might as well give up. It was obvious someone really wanted him to die. Be it God or just the monster bearing down on him. But then Harry's face – so beautiful and so care-free – flashed before his mind. And it gave him courage.

Dodging out of the way just as the sound of a gun shot echoed through the streets, he tackled Blaise around the legs before he could get another aim. Blaise fell to the ground with a thud and Draco punched him three times in the face. Standing up quickly, he grabbed the gun and pointed it at Blaise, his own chest heaving from the effort and his face flushed with anger.

"Going to kill me, Draco?" Blaise asked as he stared up at Draco. Draco, for one brief moment, had the violent urge to pull the trigger. How good would it feel to just end this once and for all? But then he knew he couldn't. It just wasn't who he was.

"No," Draco said. "I'm not like you." With a burst of strength, he ripped the bullets out of the gun and threw them into the gutter. He watched as they washed away with the water and down into the sewer. Throwing the gun down next to Blaise, who was just laying defeated on the ground, he turned to walk away.

"Fine, run to that trash, run to your faggot boyfriend." Draco froze in mid-step before turning around and aiming a heavy kick to Blaise's head. The boy was instantly knocked out.

"Shut the fuck up about Harry, no one talks about him that way," Draco spat before running off. He still had time to get there. 'Oh, please don't let me be too late.'

* * *

A loud, choking sob escaped his throat as the tears spilled freely down his face. He watched as they splashed against the dance floor and onto his shaking and white knuckles. People were starting to whisper; what was going on; was he hurt, why was he just laying there?

"Harry," Hermione whispered as she bent down next to him, "Get up, please." Her voice was urgent, concerned but still gentle. She touched his shoulder with her fingertips but he jerked away from her.

Why, why should he get up? There was nothing to get up for. He was defeated now. He almost wanted to shout out to the audience: "Happy now! Happy, Uncle? Look at me now! Isn't this what you wanted?" But he could not free his throat enough to let those words out.

His finger nails scratched at the wood and his other hand clutched at his heart. It was so very painful.

* * *

He ran up the steps to the Melodrama theatre. He tore through the glass doors and shoved his ticket into the checker's hands.

"I need to get in," he rasped out, "I need to."

The man looked at him with alarm.

"But the performance has already started; you'll have to wait for the next one."

"No! No. I need to get in for this one. Please, please!" Draco was almost hysterical. Perhaps fate was finally on his side, or perhaps the man just took pity on the frantic soul, because he nodded, allowing him passage.

"Thank you," he said and ran past him. Pushing open the doors to the theatre room, he flooded the place with light.

* * *

A few people turned around as they were suddenly bathed in bright light. Harry looked up from his spot on the ground and squinted into the light. He could just make out the form of someone standing in the doorway. He braced himself with his arms to get a better look. His eyes widened when they adjusted to the light.

"Draco," he whispered. He was standing there, looking at Harry, smiling. Harry returned the smile, a bit weakly. Hope and happiness suddenly flooded his being. And now, now he found the strength to stand up. With weak arms and even weaker legs, he got back into position and nodded for them to start the music again.

And when it did, this time, this time he put his all into it. This time, he found a reason to dance.

He performed his moves flawlessly; he twisted and turned and spun and leapt. He displayed a perfect ripping jump. Hermione was next to him, giving him strength and support. He grabbed her hand with one of his, placed the other on her hip and lifted her into the air. She did a rotation as he let go of her, landing on her feet effortless as she turned a few times on her toes. Another pirouette before they did a horizontal jump through the air together, staring on one leg, splitting their legs in mid-air and landing on the other.

For the end of their performance, they ran to different ends of the stage, Harry on one end and Hermione on the other. Taking a deep breath, he ran toward her, his arms straight and his mind focused. Once they both reached the middle of the stage, they vaulted themselves in the air, flipping and twisting their bodies as they passed each other and landing on the opposite sides of the stage again. When he collected himself, he stood straight and turned to Hermione. She smiled and winked at him before they both took a bow. The crowd was clapping and cheering for them and the stage curtain closed on them.

"We did it!" Hermione nearly squealed as she jumped into his arms.

"Yeah," Harry said, his mind distracted at the moment. He let go of Hermione and hurried past her. He walked out into the main congregation room, which was already filled with parents and friends of the dancers who had already performed. They were talking and laughing as they walked around. Harry stood on his toes, trying to see over the heads of the adults.

"Draco!" he called out as he pushed past the many people. "Draco!" He stopped and spun around a few times, trying in vain to spot the blond anywhere.

"Draco!" he cried out when he looked towards the exit. There he was his with his back to him as he pushed the door open and was getting ready to leave. He ran after him, tearing out the door and grabbing his shoulder before he could go a step further. It was raining out and Harry was already drenched through.

"Draco!" Harry cried as he forced Draco to turn around.

"Harry," Draco said in surprise as he looked down at the other boy. "What's wrong?"

"Wh-what," Harry gasped and panted, "What are you doing?"

"I-I was just going to leave, you know, so I'm not in the way."

"Don't talk stupid!" Harry nearly shouted. "I want you here."

"I dunno, Harry," Draco said as he looked past Harry to the crowd of people in the room just behind them.

"Don't look at them," Harry snapped. "Look at me. You only need to look at me."

"But Harry…"

"So you…you were just going to leave?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes up at the taller boy.

"Well…yeah. I just didn't want to intrude."

"Don't you care about what I want?"

"Harry…" Draco stared down at him.

"Just shut up for a second," Harry said and he wrapped an arm around Draco's neck, bringing the other down closer to his height. He then smashed their lips together. Draco seemed surprised at first; after all, there was a whole room of people who only needed to turn around to witness what was going on. But after a moment he eased up and wrapped one arm around Harry's back, to bring him closer to himself. He brought his other hand to the back of Harry's head and pressed their lips harder against each other.

Harry felt his shirt riding up his stomach and the rain spilling down his legs; the rain pounded down on them relentlessly, soaking them through, matting their hair to their heads and freezing them to the bone, but all that mattered was the hot, moist lips of the man pressed up against him. It seemed an eternity that they just stood there in the rain, kissing each other as if they were afraid to let go. But if it had been, then it was an eternity well spent.

* * *

Author's Note: Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuude. This chapter was LONG. I cannot believe how long it is. I never imagined it to be so, well, long. Fourteen thousand words. Can. You. Believe. That? Haha. That's like a short story all in itself.

Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed the story. This chapter was rather important because it set up for a lot of things that will come later on. I do hope you're all still with me. I wouldn't be surprised if you guys ditched me halfway through this chapter. I thought I had a brain melt myself while editing this bad boy.

Anyway, thank you for all of your reviews!


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

It was December and it was cold. The frost and the fog settled in on the city like blankets. People grumbled and moaned about having to scrape ice from their windshields and walkways at early hours before work. Everyone decked themselves in thicker coats, with scarves wrapped up to their noses and heavy boots to protect their feet and socks from the sloshing wetness.

Despite the downside of the weather, spirits were still high and moods seemed happier. Now was the time to decorate your house with many different kinds of merriment: Christmas trees, lights, candles, and poinsettias. The air seemed fresher, cleaner - thick with the scent of trees, rain, cold and Christmas. People took it in hungrily, breathing deep from their surroundings all that they could take from it.

Even as he walked down the streets, he noticed a difference in the atmosphere. People waved at him as they walked by; even a few smiled, they smiled at him!

"Good morning," said a man as he painted pictures of holly, mistletoe and Santa Claus on the windows of a shop. Draco looked at him and gave a slight smile, not really knowing how to deal with people. He merely continued on his way, passing by another person setting up a manger scene on their front porch. "Good day," they said as they nodded. Draco waved, though a little shyly. He wasn't used to so many kind words aimed towards him.

Shoving his numb and cold hands into his pockets, he crossed the street to the opposite sidewalk. He couldn't help but feel that smile from earlier tug at the corner of his lips. What a difference, he thought, a few kind gestures could make in a person's day. Never before had a complete stranger smiled at him. But he simply blamed it on the upcoming holidays. It was getting to everyone.

Shaking his head in amusement, he walked up the steps to Hermione's house and scuffed his feet on the welcome mat, ridding them of grim and mud, before knocking on the door. He breathed out, looking up at the sky as a jet plane soared across it. When the door opened, he brought his attention to it and smiled when he saw Hermione standing there.

"Draco!" Hermione greeted, opening the doorway wider to let the other in. Draco walked in past her and turned around as she closed the door, "Good to see you."

"Thanks," Draco said, looking around.

"Looking for Harry?"

"Er, yeah," Draco said, blushing slightly in embarrassment at having been caught out.

"He's still getting ready," Hermione informed. "He should be out in a few. Make yourself comfortable."

"Okay," Draco nodded.

"I'll be right back."

Draco sat down on the sofa in the living room and tapped his fingers against his thighs. To pass the time, he counted the number of ticks from the clock and stared at one of the paintings hanging on the wall. It was a colorful piece; it didn't have a particular subject in it, it was just a bunch of colors swirling and melding together. He got up and walked over to it to get a better look. Squinting down at the black letters in the bottom right corner, he noticed that it had Harry's name on it.

'He painted that?' he thought with interest. He wasn't aware that Harry painted.

Someone cleared their throat just then, letting Draco become aware of their presence in the room. Turning around quickly, he saw Hermione standing there, with Harry slightly behind her.

"Oh, um," Draco said, looking at Harry, who seemed to be blushing.

"Come on, Harry, stop being ridiculous!" Hermione scolded and pushed him in front of her. Now Draco had a clear view of the boy. He looked…well he looked different, that was for sure.

He was dressed in a clean, soft looking dark-green turtleneck under a dark brown jacket and a fresh pair of un-torn blue jeans. His hair was still its usual messy style but it had a softer, shinier appearance to it now. He was even wearing a brand new pair of trainers.

"I um…, I told Hermione that we were just hanging out," Harry said, not quite making eye contact, "but she insisted on buying me a new outfit for the occasion."

"Well, honestly Harry, all of your clothes are rags at best," Hermione said, defending herself. "You desperately needed a shopping trip."

"And it was a horrible experience," Harry said under his breath. Only, Hermione had heard it.

"Oh, really?" Hermione said, folding her arms over her chest. "Well, you're impossible to shop for! You just shrugged your shoulders at everything."

"How am I supposed to know what looks good? I've never been shopping for clothes before."

"Oh, what's the bother, anyway," Hermione said, waving the argument off. Draco, however, had not been paying much attention. He had been too busy looking at Harry the whole time.

"Well, um," he coughed slightly, "I guess we should get going?"

"You're right," Harry said and smiled at him. They walked to the front door together rather awkwardly.

"Don't forget your scarf," Hermione said as she wrapped it around Harry's neck for him.

"Thanks, Hermione."

"And your gloves," she said as she tried to force them on his hands. He grabbed her wrists to stop her.

"I got it, Hermione," Harry said. He picked up a duffle bag by the entrance way and draped it over his shoulder.

"Oh, alright. Well, off you go. Have fun," Hermione said as she opened the door and shoved them outside. They were met with the cold air and the buzzing city. They looked at each other, unsure of themselves.

"So, um, what do you wanna do?" Draco asked as he shoved his hands in his pockets again, something he came to realize as a thing he did when he was uncomfortable with a situation.

"Well, I've got an idea," Harry said. "Just follow me."

Draco obliged and let Harry lead the way. They walked down the clustered streets, exhaust from cars rising up like smoke in the cold air as they passed by. They were mostly silent, save for Harry occasionally asking a question or pointing out something interesting. Draco found Harry really liked the Christmas season; he'd point in amazement at the decorations people set out and smiled happily.

"My uncle never puts out stuff like that," Harry said as they passed by a giant inflatable Santa swaying gently in the breeze.

To Draco, that was one of the few times Harry ever brought up his uncle. Harry seemed not to notice nor mind though, so Draco didn't bother with it as well.

"The Grangers, however, go all out sometimes. One year, Mr. Granger put up a whole mess of lights on the house, inside and out. It was very bright; their house was the most noticeable one on the block. People would come by and thank him for providing such sufficient lighting to find their ways home. We all had a good laugh."

"It must be nice to have such a family to be around during Christmas," Draco commented lightly.

"Oh, yeah, they're wonderful. Ever since I could really remember, our Christmases have been spent together. Well, I remember a few very early Christmases with my uncle and cousin, and I think one with my aunt before she died. They were always very bleak; maybe a tiny plastic tree in the corner but that was about it. I don't recall any gifts or holiday cheer."

"I'm sorry," Draco said.

"Don't apologize for that! It's all in the past. And this year, you can spend Christmas with us. It'll be loads of fun."

"Yeah," Draco said quietly, smiling softly again. "I'm sure it will be."

"I'll have to think of a present for you!" Harry said, clapping his hands together.

"Oh, you don't have…" but he was cut off by Harry.

"Here we are!" Draco looked up and noticed they were in the nicer part of the city; mostly clean sidewalks, not-so-crowded streets, plenty of grass and trees and a large park full of playful kids and a lake. Now that the sun was out, the sidewalks weren't icy and it was a bit warmer.

"Over here," Harry said as he waved him over to a bench. Draco followed and they sat down together.

"So, what's your plan?" Draco asked him curiously. "To sit here?"

"No," Harry said with a grin. He unzipped his duffle bag and dug around in it. "These." He held up a pair of sleek black roller-skates for Draco to see.

"And what are we going to do with those?" Draco asked, eyeing them suspiciously.

"Roller-blade, of course!" Harry said enthusiastically as he set them down and began untying his shoes and pulling them off.

"Oh no," Draco said, shaking his head and holding his hands up. "Last time I did anything with the word "skate" in it I fell flat on my butt; not to mention we got kicked out."

"That was last time, this is now," Harry said, pulling on the smaller pair of skates and snapping the buckles closed. "Never be afraid to try new things. We're on solid land this time, nothing can go wrong!"

"I dunno…" Draco said, feeling slightly nervous. But Harry looked so eager and he didn't want to let him down. "Where did you get those anyway?" He was stalling for time, he knew.

"The Grangers," Harry said, sitting straight once he finished getting his on, "I borrowed Hermione's, and Mr. Granger let you borrow his. Don't worry, they're practically brand new."

Draco still felt some trepidation about the whole thing but he decided to go for it anyway. Harry was always up for new things and he figured it would do him some good to try new things as well. Ice skating had definitely been a disaster but who was to say that roller-skating would be the same?

"Come on, don't be afraid," Harry said as he tugged Draco's foot up to his lap and yanked off his shoes for him. "You know, I think you've got a problem with shyness." Harry said this as he pulled on one of the skates and buckled it. "But it's okay, plenty of people are really shy."

"I'm not shy," Draco said.

"Oh? Well, maybe you just don't like doing stuff then." Harry let Draco's foot drop to the ground. It felt heavy from the new footwear and he unsurely let it glide across the ground as he sat. Harry busied himself with the other foot.

"There, all ready," Harry said as he patted Draco's leg with reassurance and pushed it off of his lap. Harry stood up, seemingly able to balance himself very well. Draco felt sure that he wouldn't be the same. Images of himself falling flat on his face or butt flashed across his mind and filled him with even more foreboding.

"It's alright," Harry said as he held out his hand, "I'll help you!"

"Er," Draco said as he eyed the other's hand. Forcing his own hand out, he clasped it with Harry's. With some effort, Harry helped Draco stand up. To him, it was almost impossible to balance himself on two sets of wheels; who invented these things anyway? He wanted to have a word or two with them about why it is a stupid idea to put wheels on human feet.

He grabbed onto Harry as soon as he felt himself slipping. His legs were unstable as they slid around everywhere just as he stood. Harry held onto his arms and helped him maintain stability.

"Careful," Harry said with a grin. As soon as Draco was able to stand without Harry's assistance, he let go of him and kept his eyes on his feet.

"See, it's not so hard," Harry told him as he skated backwards a few feet. "Just follow me."

"Yeah, well, that's easy for you to say," Draco said as he held out his arms and made a wobbly attempt at moving forward. His knees were bent and shaking and his eyes were focused intently on his feet. He heard Harry giggle at him and he narrowed his eyes, lifting his head to glare at the boy.

Harry skated up to him and circled around him, looking at his feet.

"Look, here's your problem." He bent down and straightened Draco's legs slightly, lining his feet up. Draco began losing his balance but he felt Harry's hand on his back, steadying him.

"Keep your knees slightly bent, don't hunch your back too much and don't look at your feet," Harry instructed.

"I'm going to fall, I know it," Draco said.

"If you're afraid of getting hurt, I have something you can use." Harry rummaged through the bag he had over his shoulder and pulled out a few dark blue things.

"They're elbow and knee pads; they'll protect you if you fall."

"I'm not afraid of getting hurt," Draco protested. He's been in worse scruffs than a scraped knee. He wasn't sure if he was offended or just amused.

"Well, I have them if you change your mind," Harry said as he stuffed them back in his bag. "Let's go."

"Well I won't need…" Draco took a few glides forward, "need them."

He looked up and saw that Harry was a few feet in front of him, gliding perfectly as if he had been on skates all of his life. He watched as the boy's lithe body swayed back and forth with each propel of his feet. His hair was ruffling in the chilly wind and glittering in the sun, his coat flapping gently and his bag slapping against his hip with each glide.

He had been so immersed in the sight before him that he hadn't really been paying attention.

"Draco! Watch out," Harry called. Draco looked up in time to see himself speeding straight toward a giant street lamp. He held out his arms and grabbed onto the pole with his hands, but the built up momentum caused him to spin around the pole a few times as he clutched onto it. It was a moment or two even after he had stopped for him to realize what had just happened.

"Oh my God," Harry said as he skated to a stop beside him, amusement very apparent in his voice. "That was awesome. I won't lie to you…everyone saw that."

Draco didn't need Harry to point that out to him; he could almost feel everyone's eyes on him as he continued to clutch at the pole. He could practically hear the laughter that was surely going on in their minds. His cheeks burned a bit.

"It's pretty obvious that you don't catch on to things very quickly," Harry pointed out oh-so-obviously. "Here, give me your hand."

"What?" Draco said as he looked up into Harry's face.  
"I said, give me your hand."

"What for?"

"I'm going to guide you through this, just so you don't land on your butt or crack your skull open or anything."

"I wouldn't have that problem if I was walking on my feet," Draco mumbled under his breath as he glared at his feet, as if blaming them for everything.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Good. Now give me your hand." Draco, a bit grudgingly (not being one to enjoy accepting help) grasped the hand that was being offered to him. Harry wrapped his fingers around his hand securely and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

"All set?"

"Must you treat me like I'm five?"

"Yes, now let's go!" And with that, and with no further warning, Harry took off all the while pulling Draco right along beside him. To Draco, if felt like they were going a million miles an hour – the wind was whipping softly against his face as they zoomed through the park. Harry was an excellent roller-skater, he had to admit. Much better than he had been on ice. He was in perfect control and made sure Draco never got lost or swerved out of control. He began to relax as they continued on their way, taking in all of the sights and sounds of the park activity. Harry's hand in his began to feel warm and moist, but he found that he didn't mind this so much. It felt good…safe, secure, and familiar.

It was all well and good for the most part; that was, until they came to the hill. It wasn't by any means a monstrous hill, more like a gentle slope than anything but to Draco it was a mountain.

"Here we go!" Harry said. And go they did. All would've went well, however, if it wasn't for the fact that Harry had chose that exact moment to let Draco "soar on his own" as Harry would later put it, and let go of Draco's hand.

Suddenly everything was a whirl of colors and wind and the fact that he had no control whatsoever over where he was going or how fast he was getting there.

He was desperately trying to stop himself before he crashed into something. He looked up to see Harry already at the bottom of the hill waiting for him. He was getting closer and closer to him before…

"Draco! What're you…oof!" Draco, unable to stop himself any other way, grabbed Harry around the middle and they both went flying and then tumbling into the grass. All of the air was knocked out of him as he landed on top of Harry and hit his knees against the ground. They slid a few inches across the grass before they came to a stop, completely breathless and shocked.

It took several seconds of breathing into each other's faces before they realized the situation they were in. Harry was the first one to gather his wits about him. Once he did, he began laughing, his laughter was a merry sound and it floated up through Draco's ears and into his heart. Before he knew it, the same sound was emitting from his own mouth.

"Smooth, very smooth," Harry said through laughter. "I have never seen a more elegant stop."

"That bloody hurt," Draco mumbled. His abused knees agreed with him.

"Oh, don't be such a baby. I was the one who got pummeled into," Harry said as he stared up at Draco. Draco then realized that he was still on top of the boy. He looked down into his eyes; they were glittering with a happiness and serenity that was so rare to see in anybody. Harry reached up and placed his hand on Draco's cheek, caressing it as they continued to look at each other.

But soon reality sunk in. Draco realized where he was and who he was with. People were walking around and they were open for any accusing eyes. Clearing his throat, he rolled off of Harry and sat down on the grass.

"Um, sorry," he said in a low voice. Harry sat up as well and dusted his shirt free of grass and dirt.

"That's okay."

Draco busied himself with looking down at his jeans. There were grass-stains on his knees from where he landed them. After further inspection, he also noticed that he had ripped a small hole into the elbow of his shirt. Well, wasn't that just his luck.

"Do you want those pads now?" Harry asked with a smirk.

"Cheeky bastard," Draco said but snatched them from Harry nonetheless. With some help from the other boy, he snapped them into place over his clothing and adjusted them so they were put on the correct way.

When they were finished, Harry asked, "Ready to give it another go?"

"Yeah, I think so."

They both struggled to stand up in their skates and stumbled off of the grass and back onto the paved ground. Now that there weren't very many hills like last time, and with a bit more practice, it had become easier to maneuver himself on wheels. Draco found himself actually enjoying it a bit. Harry had promised not to go too fast, so they were going at a nice, even pace.

Harry was a bit of a show off and sometimes switched to backwards skating while Draco was still just getting down the basics in moving forward. He'd even do a few spins on his skates, which Draco thought he looked amazing doing. It was amazing to see Harry doing certain things; it was like he couldn't do anything wrong. Even if he messed up it still seemed perfect anyway.

"Can we stop now?" Draco asked Harry, feeling somewhat fatigued. He wasn't used to so much outdoor activity. He could really go for a cigarette, as well.

"Aw, c'mon, we're just getting started," Harry said as he turned around and took both of Draco's hands with his. He pulled on his arms a bit and laughed.

"But I'm getting tired," Draco said, about to complain about how his feet hurt too much. "Besides, I need nicotine before I…"

"Shh-shh," Harry said as he pressed his finger to Draco's lips. He giggled again before pressing his lips to Draco's. He felt Harry squeezing his hands as they kissed – all of sudden all urges to have a cigarette and all complaints vanished into thin air.

When they broke apart, Harry moved back a bit and cocked his head at Draco. That smile of his was planted on his face and the glittering in his eyes was intensified.

"So, do you still want to stop?"

"Yes," Draco said without much hesitation. Harry pouted and huffed.

"Fine! Be that way. Let's go take our skates off."

"Thank you," Draco said with a sigh. They skated to the nearest bench. He let out all his breath at once and enjoyed the feeling of being off his feet. They removed their skates and padding, packing them back into Harry's bag. After they replaced their shoes onto their feet, they stood up again.

"What now?" Draco asked.

"Oooh, sweet ice!" Harry said and he pointed to the little cart just across from them. "Let's go get some." He took Draco's hand and led him to the cart. They stopped in front of it and looked at all of the coloured bottles; they were filled with sweet syrups of all kinds of flavors. Harry tapped his chin as he examined each one.

"I think I'll get…cherry," he said with a smile as he looked up at the person behind the cart. "What about you, Draco?"

"I don't know."

"You don't? Well, what's your favorite flavor?"

"I don't really…have one."

"Well, how about apple?"

"Okay," Draco said with a shrug. He had never really had sweet ice before. He was interested as to how shaved ice drenched in syrup could be so good.

Harry ordered theirs and paid for it.

"Hermione gave me some money earlier, so don't worry about it," Harry said as they watched the tender scoop up ice and pack it into a little cone-shaped paper cups. He liberally poured red syrup all over Harry's and green over Draco's. Harry took them from the man with a polite "thank you" and handed Draco his.

"Sweet ice is one of my favorite things about winter," Harry said. "Mrs. Granger used to always buy me some when we came out to see Christmas lights." Draco watched as Harry bit into his cone with a 'crunch'. He could see the look of happiness on the boy's face as he savored the sweet taste of the ice. His lips were dyed red from the syrup, giving him an innocent appearance.

"Well, aren't you going to try yours?" Harry asked as he looked up to notice that Draco hadn't eaten his yet.

"Oh, right," Draco replied, looking down at his. He had almost let slip that he was more interesting in watching Harry than eating his. But he took a little bite of his and let the sticky sweetness fall onto his tongue. He shivered a bit from the coldness of the ice but he enjoyed the taste nonetheless. He immediately took another taste, relishing it all. He heard Harry laugh merrily. How was it that Harry made such simple things as eating sweet ice so special?

"I'm really happy," Harry said suddenly. Draco looked up from his cone and to the other.

"What for?"

"Dunno, just am," Harry shrugged, still clutching his ice in both hands. "I feel different, lighter. I think it's because of you."

Draco didn't know what to say to that, so instead he just stared down into the green of his treat. The taste of apple lingered on his tongue and the chill from the ice remained in the pit of his stomach.

They walked in silence, but it wasn't awkward. It was just that silence in which one merely wishes to enjoy the presence of another. They stopped in front of the lake and watched the steely gray water rippled gentle against the wind. Harry got a far off look in his eyes as he stared out onto the water.

"Some day…some day I'd like to see the ocean," Harry announced.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, yeah I think I would like it. I've never seen the ocean, you know."

Draco had never seen it either, but he had never really thought about it. It seemed rather important to Harry, though.

"My mother, I think if there was one place she'd be, it'd be by the ocean. Sometimes I imagine her walking on the shore, and she looks so beautiful. I think I'd like it too. It seems so free. Not crowded like the city. You know?"

Draco nodded, pretending to understand. He did understand the feeling of being trapped by the city, but he didn't quite understand why Harry wanted to see the ocean so badly.

Draco looked at the lake again and wondered at it. What would it cost to let Harry see the ocean? He wished he could help that dream come true. But they were both trapped. Trapped souls in a place they didn't quite belong.

Harry made a humming sound in the back of his throat and shook his head. He took a small bite from his ice and let his eyes fall away from the water.

"But it's just a silly dream, right? Hermione always tells me that I daydream too much. Head so far up in the clouds that I can't see reality. Daydreaming doesn't get things done, after all."

Draco thought that was a sad way of looking at things. Even he, the most pessimistic person on the planet, didn't like hearing Harry talk in such a way. Wanting to capture Harry's mouth away from such words, he stepped closer and tilted the boy's chin up a bit. Then he leaned down and pressed their mouths together again. This time he allowed his tongue to slip into Harry's mouth; the taste of apple and cherry mingled together and formed a uniquely interesting experience to their kiss. It was literally sweet.

"Let's go," Draco said softly as their lips parted. Harry sighed contently, his warm breath tickling Draco's lips. Harry then nodded, saying "Okay" under his breath. They threw their ice away and headed home, hand-in-hand.

* * *

Author's Note: I am sooo sorry about how late I am in updating. School practically owns me right now. I never thought college would be so time consuming. At any rate, here's a chapter. It's probably the last of its kind, meaning that it's a filler and has not much importance other than fluffy stuff. The next chapter, however, I fear is going to be rather dark. Bad stuff coming up, so be prepare.

For those of you worried about my quitting the story. Don't think that! I'll always update, just sometimes it takes a little longer than expected. I hope you'll still stick with me. Anyway, here's the chapter. Sorry it's not very long. Hope you enjoy.


	26. Chapter 26

If you are sensitive or are easily disturbed, I caution you not to go any further. This chapter deals with violent abuse and death.

Chapter Twenty-Six

"Give me your hand," Harry said. The entire room was lit with gentle sunrays, casting a glow around the two people occupying the otherwise dark dance room. Their breathing was the only sound emitting around the room and there was nothing else that they needed. It was just the two of them with their hair and flesh shining in the light, eyes sparkling with adoration and wonderment, and hearts beating with passion.

Draco placed his hand in Harry's and it was a familiar feeling. Though Draco's hand was larger than Harry's, it seemed to fit so perfectly. And though their palms got sweaty and hot, it didn't take away from the beauty of the moment.

"Just step back with your foot as I move forward," Harry instructed. He could tell that Draco was unsure with what he was supposed to do with his feet. Harry did his best in instructing and encouraging him. Their movements were simple and easy, but their bodies were close and their hands were on each other. These things made the dance as hot and passionate as any other dance.

Even though there wasn't any music and though their movements eventually became a simple rocking motion, it was their secret dance. It was a moment in which they shared bodies and minds, in which their hearts could be felt through each other's chests; Harry's eyelashes tickled Draco's cheeks and Draco's hot breath tickled Harry's ear. It was a special togetherness that they were experiencing.

And that was beautiful.

* * *

It was as it usually was at the Weasley house. Even up on the second floor, he could still hear the goings on down below. Voices, echoing footsteps and the sounds rummaging could be heard through the floorboards. There was the creaking and groaning of the house as people walked through it and the slamming of the door as they walked in and out the door constantly.

Up in Ron's room, Harry was laying on his back on Ron's bed, staring up at the ceiling. There was the pitter-patter of rain on the roof and the faint whistling of the wind. He could feel the faded and worn quilt underneath him as he absentmindedly picked at some of the loose fluff spilling from a tear in the patchwork. His feet were hanging off the bed and he let them swing freely.

Turning his head over to his red-haired friend, he noticed the other was searching around his room. He threw clothing across the room that was lying in piles on the floor. Discarded paper lay in crumpled piles and snack wrappers littered much of the floor.

"What're you looking for, Ron?" Harry asked in half-interest.

"My head-phones; I know I left them here somewhere," Ron said as he opened some dresser drawers and rummaged around in them. Harry sat up in the bed, its springs creaking and groaning with old age, and watched the other as he raided his room for his lost headphones.

Getting up and looking around, he took in everything in the room. He had seen Ron's room before, of course, but it never really ceased to amaze him. Harry, having only a few feet of room space and a mattress to call his own, was always interested in other people's rooms. It usually always matched the personality of its owner. Ron's room was a clutter box, basically. Clothes everywhere, things hanging halfway out of drawers, desk piled with papers, books, pop cans and other oddities. The walls were covered with posters of favorite bands – ranging from all genres of music – to favorite sports and sports teams. Even the ceiling hosted a poster or two – possibly for the sole reason of having something to look at while lying in bed at night.

He had one window in the room; it looked out onto back of the house. There was currently a potted plant resting on the sill, its tired and droopy leaves desperately clinging to life. Harry wondered if Ron ever watered it.

The one thing in the room that looked in perfect order was Ron's collection of records. Against one wall stood a high shelving unit that was full of all kinds of albums. Flipping through them, he recognized popular names such as The Beatles, Bon Jovi, Chicago, The Soul Patrol and Queen. There were also bands he had never heard of; such as Nitty Gritty Dirt Band and Poison. Ron, being an avid music collector, had music ranging from the early 60's to present day. It seemed to be the only possessions he took pride in.

"Do you really listen to all of these?" Harry asked interestedly as he un-shelved one record and read the back.

"Every day," Ron answered as he looked up from his search. "I try to listen to at least one record a day. And if I can't take it with me, I always have my cassettes and compact discs." He wiggled one of his cassettes as he popped it into his player.

"Why do you listen to so much music," Harry asked him as he sat down in a chair. "Doesn't your head ever feel like it's going to explode?"

"Nah," Ron said. "Music helps me think. And if I don't feel like thinking, it helps with that, too. Now where are those blasted…a-ha!" A triumphant yell as Ron plucked his headphones from behind his rubbish bin and plugged them into his player. He snapped the headphones onto his head and pressed the play button. He turned around in his desk chair and began writing something on a piece of paper. It was probably homework.

"So, is your collection complete?" Harry asked, knowing that Ron could hear him. Ron had seemingly mastered the ability to listen to music and still hear people talking at the same time.

"No…no there are a few albums I don't own. They're really expensive anyway. I s'pose one day I'll have them, but it's not any time soon."

"Oh," Harry said softly, a bit sadly. He looked down at the record he was holding in his hands and brushed his finger tips across the front: The Eagles – Hotel California.

"Mind if I put this one on?" Harry asked. Ron looked at him and then at the music in his hands. He shook his head.

"Go ahead."

"Thanks." Harry got up and pulled the record from its covering and put it in the old record-player that Ron owned. He walked back over to the bed and lay down, waiting for the music to begin. When at last the sounds of "Hotel California" began filling the room, Harry closed his eyes. He let the music surround him, gently pick him up and lead him to a far off place. When he was just about to doze off, he was snapped back to reality when Ron's door burst open.

"Here you two are, what are you doing holed up in this room for?" Mrs. Weasley asked as she walked in.

Ron took off his headphones, "Mum! What've I said about bursting in here without knocking first?"

"And what have I said about cleaning up this mess, Ronald Weasley?" Mrs. Weasley said as she placed her hands on her hips and looked around the room.

"I'll get to it later, Mum," Ron whined. "And what do you want?"

"I just put on some hot chocolate; you and Harry should come down."

"Okay, Mum, we'll be down in a second," Ron said with exasperation. When Mrs. Weasley left (not before picking up a pile of discarded clothing to wash) Ron got up and turned off the music.

"I swear, there's no privacy when you live with your parents," Ron commented.

"I suppose I wouldn't know," Harry said a bit dolefully.

"Oh…sorry, Harry," Ron said with an apologetic smile.

"That's okay," Harry said, waving off the apology. "It's not your fault, really."

"We should go down, before she starts hollering. Trust me, we don't want that."

Harry shared a laugh with the other and they both stood up and walked out of Ron's room. On their way down the stairs, the chatter from below became more distinct. It seemed everyone was down in the kitchen together.

When they entered, it was a sight to behold. Harry had never seen so many people jam-packed into one tiny room. Ginny, Fred, George, Mrs. Weasley, and Mr. Weasley were there along with Charlie and Bill, both of whom Harry had only heard of. He recognized them from family portraits, though. And now Harry and Ron were added to the mix: Harry being the one who stood out the most in the sea of red.

"Ah, there you are," Mrs. Weasley said. "Harry, I want you to meet my eldest sons, Bill and Charlie." The two men smiled at Harry. "They both live out of the country, but they've come to visit for the holidays."

"Hullo, Harry," Bill said as he stood up and shook the boy's hand. "I've heard a lot about you, it's nice to meet you."

"You as well," Harry answered back. Charlie got to him next; instead of shaking hands, however, he pulled Harry into a brotherly sort of hug.

"Any friend of Ron's is a friend of mine. However, I don't know why anyone would want to be Ron's friend."

"Oi!" Ron exclaimed. Everyone laughed.

"Come, Harry, sit next to me," Mr. Weasley waved him over to the seat next to him. Harry obliged. "Tell me, how are the Grangers?"

"Oh, they're fine," Harry answered. Mrs. Weasley came around and poured him hot chocolate first. He thanked her politely and rested his hands around the mug. "McKinley is a healthy baby. He's so cute, even though all he really does is sleep. I don't see Mr. Granger much because he works most of the day. Mrs. Granger is busy taking care of McKinley most of the time, but I expect she'll be going back to work soon as she can. Hermione is worrying about upcoming exams and is in the library hours on end."

"Hermione? Are Ron and Hermione still going out?" Charlie asked over his mug.

"Well…um," Ron's ears turned pink as he stuttered. "It's a difficult situation, you see…"

"I'll take that as a 'no'."

Harry almost choked on his hot chocolate. Poor Ron got a lot of rap from his family.

"You alright there, mate?" Bill asked Harry as he turned his attention to the boy.

"Yeah, fine," Harry said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "But you know, I'm pretty sure Hermione has feelings for Ron still."

"Oh?" This seemed to catch everyone's interest.

"Yeah…it's pretty obvious really; only an idiot wouldn't see it." He sent Ron a purposeful glance. Harry had promised himself that he wouldn't get involved with their situation, but he was getting pretty tired of their stupid games. So, why not give it a little nudge in the right direction?

"Well, there you go, Ron. Make your move," Charlie slapped Ron on the back and gave him a thumbs up. Ron merely scowled.

"It's not that easy!"

"Sure it is. Just walk up to her and say "Hermione, you are the one for me, the love of my life. Please, kiss me."' Charlie made kissing faces at Ron. Ron pushed his face out of his way and groaned.

"You guys are impossible! See what you've started, Harry?" he cried before burying his head in his arms. More laughter at Ron's expense.

Harry didn't know if he should feel bad or amused. Ron was just overreacting, but Harry knew he shouldn't have done that to his friend. But perhaps it needed to be done. Only time would tell.

After all of the hot chocolate had been finished and the mugs placed in the sink, the Weasley's and Harry herded into the living room, where they were to participate in holiday activities.

Since the Weasley's were rather poor, most of their holiday decorations were made by hand. Their tree was adorned with ornaments made by the children. Harry was even set to the task of stringing popcorn with Ginny. It was something he had never experienced with the Grangers.

Cheerful and uplifting Christmas music was playing from a little old radio by the fireplace. It really helped set the atmosphere and fill everyone with a sense of holiday appreciation.

Mr. Weasley was hanging stockings onto the fireplace; a few nails were being held in his mouth as he concentrated on hammering. Mrs. Weasley was sorting out decorations. Bill and Ron were untangling lights and Charlie was placing hooks on the ornaments. Everyone was kept busy for a good hour, but no one seemed to mind this.

The last thing Harry helped with was winding garland around the banister of the stairs with Ron. After that, the house was fully decked and looked like such a wonderful place to spend Christmas in.

"Thank you so much for helping us, dear," Mrs. Weasley said as they all gathered around the front door to see Harry off. "Are you sure we can't offer you a ride home?"

"No, that's quite alright," Harry said. "I enjoy walking."

"Well, if you're sure…, goodbye. Do come back and visit any time."

"I promise."

"And make sure you're all bundled up. I don't want you catching a chill."

"I will, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said. With that, Mrs. Weasley placed a motherly kiss on his cheek and sent him out the door. Harry felt a blush on his face, never being quite used to so much affection.

And he made his trek home. It was a long walk, of course, but he was used to walking. The rain had subsided into a light drizzle. Even though the water was splattering onto his hair and glasses, he didn't quite mind it. Rain was a symbol of purity to him, and if the rain could wash away his sins, then perhaps he could be pure too. 'Can one's life simply be washed clean? Can one eliminate the mind, the flesh and the world? Can I really become new again? Or is Satan's hold on me too strong.'

Every day he exposed himself the world, he always had to take a good long look at it. There was something so uniquely special about the world; though it was filled to the brim with evil and wrongdoing, he couldn't help but notice the simple goodness that seemed to be there too. Sometimes it's so subtle that it's easy to bypass said goodness, but other times it's so in-your-face that you'd have to be a fool to miss it.

Good things like family, friends, simple joys, seeing a child laughing…and of course, the big 'L' word. Love - the big daddy of all words. Love seemed to define the world. Love was involved in most things people did; "I did it in the name of love," "I would do anything for love". Love. That thing that seemed to always be just out of reach to him - Well…now he had it. At least he thinks he does.

'How can I tell if I'm in love? What is love? What does it feel like? Is it supposed to hit me like a ton of bricks? Or is it a subtle feeling, one that sneaks up one someone and nestles into the heart before they even notice?'

Harry knew he had never felt this particular way for anyone before; he loved Hermione, he loved Mrs. and Mrs. Granger and he loved McKinley, but that was a different kind of love. It was a constant love - one he knew would never go away. But this new feeling, this new "love" felt scary, both hot and cold at the same time; it made him feel sick but whole. New. Happy.

Can the world look at a person and tell if they are in love? Do they appear different to the world? He knew he sure felt different. Everyone in their life has told someone that they love them at least once; such a powerful word. It can mean so much and yet you hardly have to say anything at all.

He thought of Draco. When he had left them this morning, he had so badly wanted to say "I love you" but something stopped him in his tracks. What if he didn't mean it? What if it wasn't really love? Harry did not want to lie. But he felt so sure.

'Such confusing feelings,' he thought to himself, 'Such terrible and confusing feelings. But then why do they feel so right?'

All he knew is that his heart skipped, his stomach dropped and his palms would sweat every time he thought of Draco. His knees would turn to jelly and a thousand thoughts would rush around in his mind every second, trying to get him to say the right thing every time. He knew he appeared outwardly confident; he was so good at masking feelings (he had been doing it since he was a child) but inside…inside he felt so insecure, so frightened, and sick. What if he screwed it up? He was, after all, a major screw up in most things. He failed to get his uncle and cousin to love him, he failed to bring happiness to their lives, and he failed to be a good person. And now he was failing at love.

'Please, God,' Harry thought as he looked up at the sky. The sky was so far away. Did God really live up there? Why would God choose to live so far away, when so many people needed him down here? It reminded him of a poem he had once heard:

_Heaven is a place, way out in space,_

_God and his angels live there._

_Where no man can reach, for it is too far,_

_Heaven is a place, way out in space._

It wasn't like he could blame God for living so far away. Who would want to tangle themselves up in the mess people had created for themselves. But if what the church-goers say is true, then God is everywhere and can hear everything…even the deepest desires of the human heart. The desires even they, themselves, knew nothing of.

"Please, God," he repeated as he continued to look at the sky while walking. "Why does this hurt so? Take this pain away and give me courage. Courage to do the right thing; don't let me scare the only chance I have at love away."

When he finished his prayer, he wondered if God heard it. "God hates gays," came to mind. It was, after all, what people screamed so often. But didn't God embrace love as well? Would He really mind so much if the love was real and true? He'd have to wait and see. Wait for his answer.

'Even if I have to wait for an eternity,' Harry thought as he walked up the steps to his house. He stopped just outside the door with his hand inches from the doorknob. From inside, he could make out the distinct sounds of yelling and fighting. A sense of dread filled him. Should he go inside? Or should he run and never look back? Running would be the easy choice…but what if something was seriously wrong? He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he didn't at least see what was wrong.

Hoping he wouldn't regret his decision later, he opened the door and stepped inside. The first thing he noticed was that it was dark in there – he found his answer to that almost immediately. Lamps were lying shattered on the ground, pieces of glass littering everywhere. The next thing he noticed was the intensified screaming. Looking up, he could make out the hulking form of his uncle, and the slightly smaller form of his cousin. But what surprised him most about the situation was that his uncle was currently holding Dudley by his t-shirt as he rained hit after hit onto Dudley's face.

Harry's heart dropped and he almost couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. But his senses came to him.

"Uncle! Stop!" Harry yelled and ran into the living room. He wasn't sure what he was doing, but the adrenaline was coursing through his being and he charged into his uncle. He didn't make much of an impact on the large man, but it was enough to make Uncle Vernon drop Dudley. Dudley whimpered and crawled away looking for a place to hide. Harry looked away from his cousin to his uncle, whose attention was solely on Harry now.

"You!" his uncle growled. "How dare you. What is the meaning of this?"

"I…" Harry gulped, but found his courage, "I'm not going to let you hurt Dudley, Uncle."

It was probably a mistake. He probably should have run away when he had the chance, but now was too late to dwell on "could'ves" and "should'ves". His uncle's rage was very apparent on his face. It went from red to an almost purple color and the veins in his forehead were throbbing dangerously.

The blow landed in a flash; he didn't even see it coming. But what he did see was a flash of stars and a blinding white light as he crashed into the wall. Shaking his head and not dwelling on the pain, he quickly got up and ran toward the door. He bumped into the coffee table and almost tripped over the couch. He had his arms outstretched as he dashed toward the front door, hoping beyond hope that he could make it.

But then he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist and swing him back. He went flying across the room and crashed into a picture hanging on the wall. He heard something crack and he was in pain. But that adrenaline from earlier was fueling his every move and he got up instantly. He had to get away. His uncle was in it for the kill this time. He was blinded by a murderous rage.

"Get back here, boy!" his uncle roared. Why would Harry listen to something like that? He ran into the kitchen, clutching at his side, which was throbbing with pain. Stumbling into the table, he looked back for a brief moment. That was all it took for his uncle to catch up. The man grabbed Harry by the back of the neck and his arm and tossed him into the kitchen counter. He coughed as he slammed against it and his legs almost gave out. He clutched the counter with his free hand and dodged his uncle's oncoming fist.

"Why don't you just take it like a man?" his uncle snarled. Harry did not answer him he merely shoved his uncle away and ran for it. He tripped over a trash bin and went crashing to the floor. With one arm wrapped around his stomach and the other desperately trying to help him crawl away, he inched away from his uncle. When he felt and saw the large man looming over him, Harry rolled on his back. With some quick thinking, he grabbed one of the table chairs as best as he could and swung it at Vernon. It hit Vernon in the stomach, causing the man to falter a bit. That gave Harry enough time to get up and run out of the kitchen.

He ran down the hallway, all the while crashing into the walls as his whole body screamed in pain. His uncle's thunderous footfalls were right behind him. He could practically feel the hot, angry breath on his neck. When he reached his room, he slammed the door open, ran inside and then quickly slammed it on his uncle. He braced his hands against the wood of the door, using all of his weight to hold it closed. His uncle was hammering against the door, furiously trying to burst it down.

"You get your ass out here, right now!" his uncle yelled. "When I'm done with you, you'll be nothing but a piece of meat!"

Harry let out a sob as he continued to hold the door closed. His uncle's strength was astounding and as he banged on it, Harry was almost forced back from the blows. But he held strong and looked around for anything that might help him. The chair! He reached for it and placed it underneath the doorknob, hoping it would hold for now. He then ran over to the window, kicking his mattress and blankets away desperately. His uncle's screaming and thundering was louder and angrier every second. He desperately pulled on the window, trying to force it to open. It appeared his uncle had hammered the thing shut when he had been away. Nails were sticking out of it and they snagged into Harry's palms as he tried to lift the window open.

Letting out another frustrated yell, he ran back over to the door and braced himself against it, this time with his back. Sobbing, fearful for his life, he hoped his uncle would just go away,

'Please, please go away,' Harry said over and over again in his mind, 'Please God, make him go away.' It was a few more minutes of a seemingly hopeless struggle before the pounding subsided and the screaming stopped. Harry listened intently and heard the sounds of his uncle's heavy breathing. He was obviously staring at the door, contemplating what to do.

'Go away,' Harry thought with his heaving breaths. He somehow wished his uncle would just disappear. Disappear and never return. And then Harry would open the door and look round and realize he was free. But it was not to be. His uncle was still there.

When he heard his retreating footsteps, Harry sunk to the floor with his back still against the door. His breathing was hard and his heart was practically leaping from his chest. He wondered if he was gone.

Leaning his head into his arms, he couldn't help but want to cry. Why did this keep happening? He was just relieved that his uncle had backed off.

But his relief was short-lived. The next thing he knew, the sounds of gunfire was ringing through his ears and bullet hole after bullet hole was appearing in his bedroom door. Leaping away from the door, Harry stared at it in fright. His uncle had a gun? Now terror filled his every being. His uncle really did mean it this time. He was going to die…he could just feel it.

The door burst open, the chair went flying. All Harry could do was wrap his arms around his head and hope his uncle wouldn't shoot him on the spot. His uncle came up to him and grabbed his arm, forcing it away from his head. He hit him around the face a few times before dragging him out of the room. Harry desperately tried to grab onto something, anything, to keep himself from being taken away.

His uncle was mumbling something under breath; it was a mantra of insanity.

"Filthy…boy, kill…Dudley, so, so sorry Petunia…forgive me, forgive me…make…things right. Sorry, sorry."

His uncle was dragging Harry into the bathroom and now Harry chose to scream. He screamed his lungs out and renewed his struggle to free himself. It was fight or die. He didn't want to die.

"Be quiet!" his uncle roared. "Stop your struggling."

But Harry didn't stop. He pulled and tugged at his uncle's arm, scratching at him and oh so desperately wishing to be free of this hell. When they were in the bathroom, his uncle forced Harry onto his feet and in front of him.

"Look!" his uncle yelled. Harry, eyes full of tears, looked up. He was greeted with his own reflection. He breathed and let the tears fall down his face. What was he supposed to be looking at?

"Look!" Vernon repeated. "Look at yourself, you filthy boy. What do you see?"

Harry couldn't answer.

"ANSWER ME!" Harry jumped and let out another sob.

"I…I see me, Uncle," Harry cried. "I see me!"

"That's right, it's you. You're hideous, pitiful, and ugly. Look at yourself and see what you've done to this family. It's your fault. IT'S YOUR ENTIRE FAULT."

"I'm sorry!" Harry screamed.

"Sorry, sorry? Don't spout that tripe at me, boy. You'll pay for what you did." His uncle was shaking him and Harry felt sick.

"See, Petunia, I'm making everything right again," Vernon said. Harry was truly frightened. His uncle had gone completely mad.

Unexpectedly, Harry's face was slammed into the mirror. He couldn't even scream. The glass shattered and cut his cheeks, his lips, his nose. Blood was everywhere, streaming from his nose and into his eyes. He was thrown back again and he landed beside the tub. He scuttled away from his uncle, his hands clutching at his face.

"Stupid boy, always causing trouble," his uncle muttered as he exited the bathroom. He could hear those insane ramblings all the way down the hall. They chilled Harry to the bone.

Lifting his hands from his face, he realized he couldn't properly open his left eye. His hands were painted with blood and as he crawled from the bathroom, they left bloody prints all over the tile.

As he crawled down the hallway, he subconsciously hoped that Dudley had gotten away. Now if only he could reach the door…

Peeking around the wall, he saw his uncle in the kitchen. He was sitting at the table with a bottle of brandy in his grip. He also noticed the gun gripped in his other hand.

'Gotta get to the door,' Harry thought. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He then gripped the wall and helped himself stand. Focusing his attention on his goal, he slowly tip-toed the rest of the way. Over and over again he thought "please, please, please" to himself. The journey seemed to take forever; the path to the door seemed never ending. Every step he took, he feared that his uncle would hear it and come bounding down the hall, ready to finish what he had started.

When he at last reached the door, he was about to open it when he heard the sound of something clicking.

"Don't even think about it," his uncle said in a murderous tone. Harry's stomach filled with a sickening feeling and he looked over to his uncle. He came face to face with the barrel of a gun. Harry finally understood what it was like to stare death in the face.

Making a split-second choice, Harry screamed out "NO!" and whacked the gun out of the way. An ear-splitting gunshot rang out again and he heard the sounds of something crashing to the floor. But he did not wait around to find out what it was. He ran past his uncle and tumbled over the sofa. He threw everything he could reach at his uncle as he ran back into the kitchen.

Fear drove his every move now; he ran up to the knife holder and pulled out a butcher knife. He was backing away from Uncle Vernon, knife poised in the air and eyes filled with fear.

"Please, Uncle, don't do this," Harry said through a choked sob.

"You don't understand, Harry, this has to be done," Vernon said as he advanced on the boy. "It has to be." And he lunged for him. Harry tried to make a dash but his uncle was able to grab a hold of him. Wildly swinging the knife, Harry was able to make a deep slice across his uncle's face. Screaming in pain, his uncle backed off and held his hand to his face. Harry took the opportunity to run from the room.

He went the only place he could – into his bedroom again. He crashed into the room and looked around.

"What do I do? What do I do?" he said to himself while looking around frantically. He held his hands to his face, still holding the knife, and panicked. Kicking the chair away he slid down the wall and sat in a corner, still holding his face. Tears ran in streams down his face, mingling with the blood that was still oozing from his wounds.

Suddenly, he remembered something. Standing up, he ran over to his pile of clothing, knife still clutched into his hand, and began tearing through all of the clothes. Blood was getting everywhere but he didn't care. When he finally found what he was looking for, he pulled it out of the pockets of an old pair of jeans and looked at it.

Already covered in blood but still legible, he saw the number Officer Brown had left him that day in the hospital. Not taking another second, he stood up and ran from the room. Stopping in the hallway, he cautiously looked around. He couldn't hear his uncle anywhere. When he looked down the hall, he saw the phone on a table. He dashed for it. But before he could get to it, something collided with him and both he and the thing went sailing into another wall. His air was knocked out of him.

"Leave me alone!" Harry screamed as his uncle knocked the knife out of his hands and began beating him. He felt punches to his face and stomach. Harry tried to reach for the knife that was so close yet so far away. It was just out of arms reach. He could feel the cold still with the tips of his fingers. Frustrated and with strength he didn't even know he had, Harry shoved his uncle off of him with his feet and tried to get away. His uncle's arms wrapped around his legs and kept him from getting very far.

"You aren't getting away, Harry," his uncle said with a laugh, a maniacal laugh. "Oh no, you're going no where."

"Shut up!" Harry screamed and kicked his uncle in the face. That got him to let go. He jumped up and ran for the phone. Picking it up from the receiver, he ran into another room with it. But he didn't have time to dial the number as he uncle came crashing in after him.

"You," he growled. His face was covered in blood from the cut and there was a bruise forming on his eye. Harry ran again and went into the bathroom. Locking the door behind him, he quickly sat on the toilet and looked at the number on the card. Rocking back and forth, he wiped sweat and blood from his face. The pounding on the door came again and his heart leapt. He quickly punched in the numbers with trembling fingers. He had to redial a few times as he kept messing up. On the fourth try he got it right and waited as the line rang and rang and rang…until finally:

"Officer Brown speaking."

"Officer," Harry gasped. "I need help."

"Who is this?"

"This is Harry Potter; you gave me your number…"

"Harry? What's the matter?"

"I need your help, please…" The pounding on the door became louder and harsher. It wouldn't be long before his uncle broke through. Harry was staring at the door in an almost horrified trance

"What's going on? Harry? Answer me." Harry snapped from his trance and sobbed into the phone.

"He's trying to kill me, please come."

"Who's trying to kill you? What's happening?"

"My uncle, he has a gun. He's going to kill me!" Harry almost screamed but forced himself to whisper.

"Okay, Harry, calm down and tell me where you live." Harry quickly gave his address. His voice was quavering and his mind was in full-blown panic. He knew he probably sounded like a lunatic.

"I'll be right there, that's only ten minutes away. Just hang in there."

"Please hurry," Harry whispered before the line went dead. His trembling hands clutched at the phone as he cried some more. It too was now covered in blood.

The door burst open and his uncle's hulking form filled the doorway. Another gunshot shattered a piece of the sink. Harry threw the phone at his uncle and quickly ran past him. He felt completely animalistic now, just trying to survive at any means. He just needed to last for ten minutes and then he'd be saved.

But he might not even have ten minutes.

With weakening strength, he stumbled toward the door. But he was too slow, as his uncle caught him again and slammed him against the wall. His large, meaty hand wrapped itself around Harry's neck and forced him off his feet Harry made choking noises as he scratched at his uncle's hands.

"Time to end this. Time to end the pain," his uncle said. "Your fault, all your fault." His hands became tighter.

"Uncle," Harry rasped out, "please, stop." Harry was kicking his feet, hitting everywhere he could on his uncle's body. He couldn't breathe; he was going to pass out soon. Was this really the end?

His uncle grabbed the hand Harry was scratching at him with and snapped his wrist. Harry would've screamed if he could as the blinding pain coursed through him. Blackness was beginning to consume him and he figured this was the end.

But then the faces of Hermione, Ron and Draco all flashed before his mind and he realized he couldn't die now. They still needed him. With a burst of strength, he used his feet to shove his uncle away from him. The man flew back as Harry slid to the ground, holding his neck with his uninjured hand and coughing. Saliva streamed from his mouth and he was trembling too much to try and wipe it away.

He sat down, too tired to try to run anymore. He looked up at his uncle, who was also breathing heavily and looking at him.

"Why?" Harry rasped through his abused throat. "Why are you doing this?"

"You don't understand," his uncle said. He wasn't speaking in anger anymore. All Harry could hear was sadness, desperation. Vernon was truly a lost soul. "I have to fix this."

"You don't have to do anything!" Harry cried at him.

"You don't understand," repeated his uncle simply as he raised the gun. He pointed it straight at Harry's forehead. Harry clenched his eyes shut, ready for the gun blast. Ready for death. He couldn't do anything anymore.

"Freeze!" A voice yelled out as a door was banged open. A voice he barely recognized through all the pain and fear. Opening his eyes, Harry turned his head toward the person standing in the door. It was officer Brown backed up by two other policemen Harry did not recognize. "Don't move!"

Harry turned back to his uncle and saw the man, who still had the gun pointing at Harry. It was obvious the man was going through some internal decision. But Harry will never know what exactly the man was thinking, not even after it was all said and done. All he knew was in that instant, his uncle turned the gun on himself.

"Uncle, NO!" Harry yelled but he barely got his sentence out before the gun fired for the last time. Blood and brain matter splattered all over the walls and covered Harry. He could feel the sticky goop in his hair, on his face, in his mouth and eyes as he stared in shock at his uncle's dead form. The body slumped and dropped the gun. Blood was gushing from his head. Harry could barely breathe and he did not care that he was covered in his uncle's blood. His dead uncle.

His stomach heaved violently and Harry threw up all over himself, not stopping until every last bit of content was out of his stomach.

Officer Brown put his gun away and ran over to his uncle's dead body, kneeling down next to him.

"He's dead," he affirmed. That was pretty obvious anyway. He then turned over to Harry, who was still staring in shock.

"Harry," Brown asked as he laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Harry? Are you alright?"

What kind of stupid question was that? All Harry could hear was a rushing in his ears, like a loud wind. The sound of the gunshot was ringing over and over in his mind. All he could see was red. He did not move. Not even when he heard the ambulance siren in the distance or when the paramedics tried to get him to stand up. Flashing lights in the background, orders being yelled, people talking to him but they weren't really there. To him, the only real thing was what was before him.

Everything seemed so empty and dark. All he could taste was death in his mouth. All he could smell was blood. All he could see was his uncle's cold, lifeless form.

* * *

author's note: This chapter was based off some real life experience. Abuse is not a pretty thing, I'll tell you. Neither is suicide. But there is always, always a way out.

Please review, if you'd like. I know this chapter was rather dark, but hopefully it didn't scare any of you away.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

It was almost like a dream as he walked through the doors of the hospital. He had been sitting at home, head in his hands as he listened to his father's drunken snores. Something had felt so completely off when that phone rang. That feeling one gets when they just know something is wrong settled in the pit of his stomach. As he stared at the phone, he had a debate in his mind as to whether or not he should reach out and pick up the phone.

"Pick up the God damned phone, Boy," Lucius growled from the next room. Draco sighed and picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Draco?"  
"Hermione?"

"Yeah."

"Why are you calling me?"

"Listen, can you come down to the hospital?"

He noticed she sounded rather distressed. His eyebrows narrowed in concern.

"Why? What's wrong?"

"It's Harry," Hermione said.

"What?" Draco asked as he stood up abruptly. The chair he had been sitting on was nearly knocked back. "What's wrong with him?"

"Just come here. We're at the Mercy General Hospital. I'm on the payphone and I can't talk much longer. Please, just hurry!" And then there was the click of Hermione hanging up.

He quickly slammed the phone down, an icy feeling in the pit of his stomach, and hurried out the door.

All the way there, as he ran through the frozen streets, all he could think was "What happened?" "What's wrong with Harry?" He finally reached the hospital and walked through the glass doors.

And that's where he was now, standing and looking around. It was mostly empty; it was almost eerie how silent and desolate the place was. It gave him chills. It was a dying place. People came here to die.

Walking around, not quite sure where to go, he was distinctly aware of his own echoing footsteps and the frantic breathing coming from his own mouth. He walked up to the center of the first floor and looked around. Where was he supposed to go? Hermione hadn't mentioned a room number or even a floor that Harry was on. He almost felt like crying in frustration.

He placed his head in his hand and tried to calm himself. Why did these things happen? He thought perhaps that this train of unfortunate events would finally be over. But now Harry was in the hospital and he didn't even know what for. A million horrible thoughts flooded his mind, each one sending shivers up and down his spine.

He honestly did not know how to react. That fear he had felt the night his mother died was coming back to him. He never thought he would feel this way about anyone else: this worrying, this horrified gut feeling that was constantly pestering him…he had never felt so strongly before.

Just about then, a hand on his shoulder interrupted his thoughts. Spinning around he came face to face with Hermione.

"Hermione," he gasped in both relief and horror. Hermione was looking a right fright; her hair was frizzier than usual, her eyes were bloodshot like she had been crying (tear streaks down her cheeks attested to that as well) and her clothes were wrinkled and hung on her body as if she had just run ten miles. She reached up her sleeve-covered hand and wiped away a few tears, sniffing while she did so.

"What happened, Hermione?"

"I feel so foolish," Hermione said. "The signs, they were there, staring me in the face. I guess I just didn't want to pay attention to them."

"Where's Harry?" Draco, though sympathetic with Hermione's problems, wasn't very interested in that at the moment. He just had to see Harry for himself.

Hermione looked up at him a bit dazed and gathered herself in a semi-orderly manner.

"He's up on the third floor, the children's ward," Hermione informed. "My parents are with him at the moment. I came down here to look for you."

Draco followed Hermione. They took the elevator up to the third floor, not making a sound outside Hermione's occasional sniffling. The elevator dinged and the doors opened; they exited the small space out into a hallway. This one too was rather empty save for a few children who were walking around in hospital gowns with their parents. One child in particular, who looked about ten or eleven, was wheeling around an IV pole with a stuffed frog jammed under his arm. His head was bald and his entire physique was one of fatigue and sickness.

'This is the second time I've seen Harry in a place like this,' Draco thought to himself. They continued on down the stretched hallway, doors on either side of them filled with children and worried parents. There was some crying, some moaning, the sound of puking and even the faintest laughter from somewhere far off.

"Here," Hermione said, indicating the door they had stopped at. It was open and Draco almost feared turning into the doorway. What would he see? A bruised and broken Harry? An unconscious one? Again those frightening thoughts from earlier prevailed through his mind.

At last his willed himself to walk forward, just as he had willed himself to face his mother's death that night so long ago. Two steps forward and he was inside the room. He saw Mr. and Mrs. Granger there, he saw the room and the machines and the bed. He saw the window and the walls and the chair in the corner. He saw everything before he saw Harry.

He was sitting up in his bed, dressed in a light green hospital gown. The crisp white sheets and heavy blue blanket were drawn up around his legs and his arm was wrapped around his middle. One of his arms was dressed and placed in a sling; the other was heavily bandaged the whole way up. His face had a few bandages on it, but bruises and cuts of varying sizes covered it. His eye in particular was hidden behind a bandage but Harry was staring intently at his knees, barely moving and not making a sound. Draco didn't even want to imagine what the rest of the boy looked like.

He took a step forward, almost afraid that getting too close would shatter the boy. He looked so desperately fragile at the moment.

Mrs. Granger turned to Draco and gave a soft, sad smile before turning back to Harry.

"Harry, sweetheart, Draco is here," Mrs. Granger said. Harry did not respond; his eyes were still fixed on the space in front of him. He was barely even blinking and his breathing was shallow. It was almost as if he wasn't even alive.

Mrs. Granger sighed and took a few steps forward. Placing her hand on his wrist, she tried to bring his attention to her.

"Harry," she said again, "Draco is here. He came all the way here just to see you. Won't you please say something?"

Draco took another step forward, holding his breath and anxious to see what Harry does.

Harry slowly turned his head towards Draco, his black hair hanging limply around his face. His tired yet empty looking eyes focused on him. It almost seemed as if Harry didn't recognize him.

"Hi, Harry," Draco offered softly. Harry stared at him, giving no emotion away. The only thing that showed that the boy was feeling anything at all was the stream of tears suddenly trailing down his cheeks. Harry turned his head away again and continued staring into space.

Mrs. Granger sighed and placed a hand on Draco's shoulder.

"He's been like that all day. Ever since he woke up he's just been staring at the wall. He won't talk to me or Hermione."

"Have you been here long?"

"We got the phone call late yesterday evening," Mrs. Granger said. "We came as soon as we could. We've only been home once to rest a bit. We dropped McKinley with a friend so I wouldn't have to worry about him."

Draco looked over to Mr. Granger who was sitting in one of the chairs in the room with his head in his hands. He looked positively tired and frustrated.

"It's best not to talk much to him right now," Mrs. Granger said, "He's very upset and quite angry. He says that he should've been there to protect Harry. Honestly though, it wasn't his fault. But try getting that through his head."

Draco cast his eyes downward and fisted his hands.

"Who did it?" His voice was low and angry. He wanted to know who he should pummel into the ground.

"His uncle," Mrs. Granger said sounding very sad.

"I'll kill him."

"You won't need to do that," Hermione said from the corner she was standing in. Draco looked over to her; she was leaning against the wall with her head resting against it.

"Why not?" He didn't want to hear anything about how violence wouldn't solve anything or fix what had been done. He wanted revenge.

"He's already dead."

Draco's eyes widened. "What?"

"He killed himself, right after…right after…it happened."

"Why?" Draco was shocked to say the least.

"Guilt…depression…insanity…take your pick." Hermione's jaw was set and her eyes were hard. "It's not like I honestly care."

"Hermione!" Mrs. Granger snapped.

"Well, it's true! The bastard deserved the die," Hermione yelled back.

"It's not right to think such things, dear."

"I don't care! I'd kill that bloody bastard again if I had the chance." Hermione was almost screaming now, her eyes filling with tears and her cheeks reddened with anger.

A small whimper from where Harry was interrupted their argument. They all looked over to him, silent and watching. He hadn't moved – he was still staring at nothing but his eyes had gotten wider and his breathing had become quicker. After watching him for a bit, and realizing that he wasn't going to say or do anything, they all turned back to each other.

"Perhaps this neither the time nor the place, Hermione," Mrs. Granger said.

"Sorry, Mum," Hermione said, looking ashamed. "You're right."

"Why don't you and Draco go down to the cafeteria and get something to eat? You just need to cool off for awhile."

"Okay, Mum," Hermione said. Mrs. Granger gave them a little bit of money and sent them out. Once they were out of the room, Hermione sighed deeply and let her shoulders sag.

"Sorry about back there," she said, "I didn't mean to yell."

"I felt the same way," Draco replied. In some way he was glad that Harry's uncle was dead, but it seemed like an empty victory.

They walked silently through the halls, lost in their own thoughts. Draco was watching his feet and thinking of how he hated seeing Harry the way he was. To see anybody is such a place was shocking by itself, but to see someone you know, you care for…well it was just downright frightening.

When they came to the cafeteria on the first floor, they looked inside. It was crowded and people's voices were echoing loudly around the room. Draco looked at Hermione, who in turn looked at him.

"Wanna just go outside?" she asked.

"Yeah." They walked past the cafeteria and down another hallway. They came to a double glass door that led out into a circular break area built in the middle of the hospital. There were tables, benches and a stone fountain out there along with trees, some grass and different colored rose bushes.

Draco looked up around him and saw all the large windows that looked into the hospital and circled around, watching as people walked through the halls on each floor. It was like the walls were made entirely from glass. The sun reflected off the glass, giving a yellow glow to the entire place.

Hermione and Draco walked over to the stone fountain and sat down at the edge. Hermione leaned over slightly and looked into the clear blue water. She reached down and let her fingertips glide over the top of the water, ripples following the pattern of her fingers. There was only the sound of water hitting water.

"I can't believe this happened," Hermione finally said, not taking her eyes off the water. "The signs, they were there. I don't know why I never tried to do more."

Draco kept silent. He couldn't tell Hermione anything that would help. He was hopeless in comforting people and the situation was foreign to him.

"I suppose on the surface it's not my fault, but I should've said something…I should've been there for him more. Maybe then he would have trusted me enough to tell me."

"He does trust you," Draco blurted out. Only a dunderhead wouldn't notice how much Harry trusted Hermione. She was his best friend, the first person to ever accept him for him. Draco, a complete outsider to their friendship, could see this.

"Maybe…I dunno," Hermione said in exasperation. "I just can't stand this!" She took a swipe at the water, splashing the water and causing their reflections to blur even more. Some of it splashed onto Draco but he merely blinked.

"I wish there was some way to fix this…." She stared at the water for a moment, obviously contemplating something.

Then she stood up and stuffed her hands in her pocket and hastily withdrew a handful of coins. With anger not unknown to Draco, she began chucking the coins into the fountain, releasing her anger as she threw them in there. She started by throwing them one by one, hate being her driving force, before she began throwing them in by fours and fives. All the while she was letting out frustrated gasps.

"Give me Harry back!" she yelled at it, as if it could answer her prayers, as if it understood her desires. Draco watched as each coin plopped down into the water and joined the countless others sparkling at the bottom. "Take them all; just give me my friend back! Please, this is my wish…" When she threw the last coin in, she fell to her knees by the fountain and placed her hands on the edge. She closed her eyes and began whispering to herself. "Please, please, please" was all Draco could catch. He felt sorry for her; here she was desperately wishing for her friend to return to normal, for him to heal and go back to the way things were. However, they both knew throwing pennies into a fountain wouldn't do anything and they both understood that her wishes were fruitless and hopeless.

When at last she seemed to have regained her calm, she opened her eyes and looked into the water. It had settled down again and the newly added coins were glistening with the rest. Her wishes lie with those small copper and silver objects. She had thrown all her hope into a fountain and now she was waiting for an answer.

"Can't things just go back to the way they were?" Hermione whispered.

"No," Draco said. This was one thing he knew for sure. Things did not change; the world did not turn around and rewind just because something became inconvenient, things did not always turn out as you had once hoped they would. He knew this all too well.

Hermione's shoulders sagged again and he could tell she accepted this. She was a smart girl; she understood the unfairness of the world from the books she read. But now that she was getting a taste of how cruel the world could be, it was almost unbelievable. Her sense of security was being shattered and her sheltered world was being breached. Now she understood true heartache

'Welcome to the world, Hermione,' Draco thought, 'is it what you expected it to be?'

In an act of kindness not often expressed by him, Draco placed his hand on top of the girl's. It covered hers, his pale against her soft tan.

"Everything will be alright," he said. It was all he could say, really. He had faced many adversities in his life and never really thought much about the future. Looking ahead had always been futile and useless; but now that it was concerning Harry, he couldn't help but hope, no believe, that everything would turn out alright. It just had to.

Hermione sucked air into her mouth and then released it again. She placed her head on the stone and looked at Draco.

"Funny how we're like this right now," Hermione said. She was drawing circles with her fingers on the cement ground. She messed with some of the weeds growing through the cracks.

"What do you mean?"

"You and me, sitting here and talking – just a few months ago, I would have thought this absurd. You're a boy who always seemed so distant and well…crude, while I'm just a know-it-all bookworm. Not exactly the type of people who normally hang out together."

"Things change," Draco said.

"That they do." Hermione sat up on her knees and placed her hands on her thighs, "But changes aren't always a bad thing."

Draco cocked his head to the side and examined her. She was right, of course. His former life was an empty one; he had just done things day by day merely looking to survive. Even then, he hadn't really cared if, when he went to sleep, he'd ever wake up again. But now he found he had a reason to live and dying didn't seem like such an appealing option anymore. So yes, things did change.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cigarettes and lit one. He knew Hermione was watching him; he blew smoke from his lips and he could see her eyes trailing it up into the air.

"Sometimes you're like Harry," Draco noted aloud.

"What do you mean?"

"You notice things other people don't."

"Not everything," Hermione mumbled and set her eyes downcast.

"No one can notice everything," he told her.

"Yeah, well, it seems like Harry does I guess. He's got that about him, I've noticed it too. You see him watching the clouds or some random person and it's like he sees something that no one else does…some invisible thing. Sometimes I wonder if what he sees is really there or if he just makes it up."

Draco shrugged and tapped some ashes from his cigarette to the ground. Harry was a strange person; a creature of imagination and hope. Even if he did just pretend he was seeing something in other people or things, it was his way of making the world a more beautiful place. But now, he wondered if that Harry even existed anymore.

His eyes lifted up toward the hospital and he looked at the windows again. Harry was in there somewhere, probably still staring at nothing. How can you fix something that's been so badly broken?

When he finished his cigarette and squashed it out against the stone, he stood up. Hermione's eyes followed him.

"Let's go back in to Harry," he told her. He held out his hand to help her up. She slipped hers into his and got up from her place on the ground. She dusted her clothes off and nodded her head.

"Yeah, okay," she whispered and walked past him. Draco watched her for a moment before digging into his pocket. He felt around for the familiar feel of the smooth and cool metal. When at last he found what he was seeking for, he pulled out a silver coin and looked at it. A split-second later he flipped it into the water; it made a soft splooshing sound before nestling in with the rest.

'I know it doesn't mean much, but I do wish for Harry to get better. I wish with all my heart. Please.'

* * *

Two days later saw a pale and thinning Harry being wheeled from the hospital yet again. Draco was walking right beside him along with the Grangers. The fact that he had lost weight was very apparent: Harry's cheekbones were more present than ever and his shoulders seemed bonier and thinner than before. The shirt and trousers he had on were hanging loosely from his frail body.

All through his stay, Draco had not left Harry's side except to sleep, shower and eat. Even then he barely did those things. The doctors kept Harry an extra few days because he had spiked a fever suddenly over night and they were fearful of his unwillingness to eat and sleep.

_"Take him to see a therapist," the doctor had suggested. "The boy is mentally unwell."_

Draco had not liked those words but in a way they were true. It was like Harry had detached himself from his body mentally. It was like he wasn't even there.

"Here we are, Harry," Mrs. Granger said as she opened the door to the front seat, "We're going to go home now."

As usual, there was no reaction aside from a few shuddering breaths from the shell of a boy.

"Let's get him in," said Mrs. Granger. "Harry, can you stand up for me, please?"

Harry did not move to stand or even attempt to do so. Mr. Granger sighed and moved over to Harry.

"Here we go," he said as he lifted Harry from under the arms and legs. He carried him the few feet to the car and set him gently inside. He then buckled the belt around him and made sure he was comfortable. When he was all done, he closed the door quietly as to not startle the boy (if that was even possible anymore).

"Thank you for your help," Mr. Granger said to the nurse who had wheeled Harry out. The nurse nodded and turned the wheelchair around and headed back inside.

Hermione, Draco and Mrs. Granger all packed into the backseat while Mr. Granger got behind the wheel. The car started and they were soon driving out of the hospital lot. Everyone's eyes were on Harry (except for Mr. Granger, who was driving but he did spare an occasional glance) as if they were waiting for something to happen. Harry was looking straight ahead, his hands folded in his lap, his lips together and his eyes wide open. His hair and body were now clean, the nurses having taken good care of him, and his wounds were newly dressed. Physically, he looked like he would heal quicker than hoped. Mentally, however, a full recovery seemed doubtful.

When they arrived home, everyone got out of the car and headed over to Harry's side. Anxiously, they watched as Mr. Granger opened the passenger door and slid his arm around Harry's waist and legs and gingerly lifted him from the car.

Draco walked beside Mr. Granger, eyes focused on the boy in his arms. Harry seemed completely unaware of what was happening to him. They walked inside the house and down the hall to Hermione's room. They opened the door to the dark room and carried Harry over to the bed. Mrs. Granger pulled the covers back so Mr. Granger could set him down on it. He laid the boy back against the pillows and Mrs. Granger covered him up.

"We'll just leave him here to rest," Hermione's dad said. But looking at Harry's wide open eyes, it didn't look like he would be getting any sleep. They backed out of the room and shut the door silently behind themselves.

Once the door was firmly closed, Hermione let out a sob and Mr. Granger buried his head in his hands.

"This is awful," Mrs. Granger said through a cracking voice. "Just look at him in there; it's like he's not even alive!"

This only distressed Hermione and Draco even more. Hermione looked like she'd break down in tears any moment.

"Let's go into the kitchen and make some tea. We all need to calm down a bit," Mr. Granger offered. Hermione and her mum both nodded in agreement. Draco didn't want to leave Harry all alone in the room but what was the point in watching? Harry wasn't going anywhere any time soon, he knew that.

Mrs. Granger set a pot on the stove while the others took seats at the round table in the kitchen. Hermione was letting out a few dry sobs here and there and Draco only felt like staring. When the steaming mugs of tea were set down in front of them, they all took ginger sips of it. Draco let the warm feeling slide down his throat and pool in his stomach. It almost made him feel sick. Here he was alive and sipping tea while Harry was lying in a dark room emotionally dead.

"Perhaps we should take him to a therapist," Mr. Granger said after awhile, "like the doctor suggested."

"But what would that do, Dad?" Hermione asked, "He doesn't talk, he doesn't respond to anything – hell, he barely breathes as it is!"

"Which is why he needs professional help," her father responded. "Perhaps they can figure out what's going on and help him move past it."

"But it will scare him, William," Mrs. Granger said, "Having to meet a strange person and remember…what happened."

"Perhaps it would be for the good. At least then he'll be reacting."

"I don't know…"

"Look, Jane, he'll die at this rate! We can only force him to eat so much and he won't sleep. We can either let him lie in Hermione's room and slowly die or we can at least try something." Mr. Granger banged his fist on the table as he said this, causing all the cups to shake and splash tea over the table top.

"Honey…" Mrs. Granger reached out and touched his hand.

"I should have done something. How could I have let this mess happen? It's my job to keep this family together."

"He should have said something so we could've helped him. And it's not entirely your fault – I knew something was off. I mean, his uncle was a strange fellow; rude and quick to anger, I recall. And Harry always reacted so strangely at the mention of his home. But for this to be the cause, I would have never guessed."

Hermione sniffled and rubbed her eyes, keeping her eyes downcast.

"The poor dear," Mrs. Granger said. "What are we going to do with him?"

"We've already arranged for him to move in with us, immediately," Mr. Granger said, "I will not let him be taken away to a foster home."

"What happened to his cousin, by the way?"

"He was taken by the city and will most likely be placed in a temporary home until they can figure out something. But it is not him I am worried about."

"I still cannot believe this," Mrs. Granger said and ran her hands through her thick hair. Draco understood this. He himself was still in a state of shock. Never before had he ever imagined something like this happening to…well…anyone. Every time he thought about it, he felt like punching something. Or throwing up.

"None of us can, dear," Mr. Granger said and wrapped his arms around his wife. She leaned her head on his shoulder and let her eyes slide shut. She breathed in and out deeply, trying to find a place of solace within herself. Draco had, so many times before, done the exact same thing.

"I can't stand this anymore!" Hermione suddenly blurted out. She stood up abruptly, causing the table to shake and her chair to fly back. Mrs. Granger looked up with surprise. Hermione ran from the room, her cries echoing off the walls as she did so.

"Hermione!" Mrs. Granger called as she too stood up, ready to chase after her daughter. Draco just watched as the girl ran, hearing the door slam after her as she fled from the house. He had never guessed Hermione to be a girl who let her emotions rule her actions.

"Just let her be for now," Mr. Granger said as he grabbed his wife's hands. Mrs. Granger sighed sadly and looked down at him. "This is a tough time for her as well."

"What are we going to do?" she asked solemnly. Draco, too, wanted to know the answer to that.

"I don't know," Mr. Granger replied. "I just don't know."

* * *

Author's Note: Well, here it is. Chapter twenty-seven. After this, there's going to be maybe three or four chapters left. Also, it's very likely that the chapters will share POV's from now on. I don't think I have enough material to write about for both characters to have their own chapters anymore. We'll just have to see. This chapter was pretty short as it is.

Anyway, thank you for reviewing all of you. I got to answering about half of them, but then life came barging through demanding that I pay attention to it. I'll try to get to the rest by tonight and tomorrow.


	28. Chapter 28

AN: The story has sped up a bit. I mean I COULD drag this out and extend it to ten or so chapters, but I'm sure none of us want that. So be prepared for some fast paced stuff.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Eight

It had been a couple days since Harry had arrived home from the hospital. Every attempt to communicate with him had been met with a blank stare and no words. Though he heard every word they spoke to him and saw the many tears spilling from Hermione's eyes, he simply refused to respond. He was lost within his own mind and it held him in a vice-like snare. He desperately wished to reach out and hold Hermione and tell her to stop worrying, that it's alright now. But his arms did not make the movements because his brain simply did not will it.

He had been excused from classes for a few days, giving him time to heal. He simply lay in bed staring at the ceiling. He did not eat the food Mrs. Granger brought in for him; he barely recognized it. The faint smell that managed to reach him always sent a churning, vile sickness throughout his stomach. He allowed Mrs. Granger to force spoonfuls of soup into his mouth, letting it trickle down his throat slowly. But he did not feel or taste it. After a few spoonfuls she always sighed, caressed his forehead and then left the room.

Nights were a depressing time for him. He just stared up at the darkness as it pressed down on him like a heavy blanket. Because nights were silent and desolate, it gave him the constant feeling of being alone. It left him alone with his mind, and his mind liked to play tricks on him.

On the third day since his return, Harry turned his head and watched as Mrs. Granger left the room after his daily meal. Upon hearing the soft click of the door closing behind her, his mind spontaneously decided that he needed to get up. Allowing his stiff and sore body to rise up from the pillows he had been lying back against, he sat up in the bed. Looking around the dark room, he blinked a few times. He reached over to the bedside table, picked up his glasses and settled them on his face.

Swiping the blankets away from his body, he looked down at his legs and stomach. He was dressed a pair of flannel pajamas and a thermal shirt. Someone must've changed him without his notice. He hadn't noticed anything, really, so it did not surprise him. Wiggling and flexing his feet, he lifted them up and slowly brought them over the side of the bed. The mattress creaked slightly under his weight as he shifted into a comfortable position.

Since Hermione's bed was rather high, his legs merely danged over the edge. He brought his hands up to his face, stiffly and slowly, and touched his fingers to the wounds that were still there. Blinking, he realized that his left eye hurt to open properly. Deciding to leave it alone for now, he mostly focused through his right eye. His arms were bandaged and his broken wrist was set in cast. It continuously sent dull aches up and down his arm.

Deciding that he needed a clearer view of himself, he gently eased himself up from the bed and stood unstably on his feet. Not having moved under his own will for the past few days had caused a lax in his muscles. Reaching out with his good hand, he held onto the side table for support and steadily headed over to the full-length mirror Hermione had on her closet door. Holding himself still by bracing his hand against the wall, he looked into the mirror.

He was a monster, was the first thing that he saw about himself. His face was pale and gaunt, his cheekbones more prominent than ever. His eyes were dark and had the slightest of sunken looks to them. The gashes all over his face were a dark red and contrasted sharply against his pallid skin. He figured he looked something of a mummy with all of the bandages around his body; his arms, legs and torso had their fair share of white wrappings around them.

Looking back up at to meet his reflection's eyes, his face scrunched up and he let the tears fall. He hated himself so much at that moment that he could barely stand it. A sick lurching feeling churned in his stomach and, clutching around his middle, he bent over and heaved. The minimal contents of his stomach violently came up and out of his mouth. The translucent, slimy substance splashed against Hermione's floor as he continued to cough up everything in his stomach. When no more would come out, he sobbed and cried out in frustration. He placed his hand on the floor and kneeled down. He couldn't stop the cries that were tearing from his mouth or the violent shaking of his body.

He was vaguely aware of the door to the room bursting open and someone shouting his name. There were footsteps and the feel of hands on his body.

"Harry! Harry!" they shouted. It was Hermione, he realized. Looking up into the face of his best friend, he could see the sheer look of panic on her face. He reached up and placed his hand on her shoulder and clutched at it.

"Hermione?" he asked, a bit deliriously. The fact that he was so dizzy from not eating or sleeping very much was causing him to lose his grip on reality.

"Yes, Harry," Hermione said as her eyes searched his face. "What are you doing on the floor? Are you alright? Why didn't you call us so we could help you?"

Harry shook his head and pushed Hermione away. Hermione looked at him, regarding his actions with confusion.

"Get away, Hermione," Harry said, shaking his head still and trying to back up. His trembling arms were barely able enough to hold him up. But he forced himself away from his friend.

"Harry…?" Hermione still looked confused.

"Just get away!" Harry yelled as he huddled up into the corner by the dresser. He didn't want her to see him or touch him. Hermione's face turned from one of confusion to one of anguish and hurt. She moved a few inches forward.

"Please, let me help you!" she cried out. Harry, in a desperate attempt to get away from her, slid himself up the wall so that he was standing and moved farther back.

"Why would you want to do that, Hermione!" he screamed at her. "Can't you just leave me alone!" He grabbed the first thing he could from atop Hermione's dresser and hurled it across the room.

"Harry! Calm down!" Hermione screamed as she ducked out of the way.

But he did not listen. He continued to throw things as they went flying into the walls. He grabbed the last thing on it and chucked it all the way across the room. It crashed into the wall by the door. Looking up, he noticed that Draco had been standing there the whole time he had been screaming and throwing things. The thing had nearly hit him in the face. He was looking at Harry with shock.

Hermione was full-out crying as she stared at him. Her hands were folded together under her chin as she shifted on her feet. He turned away from them both, in shame and fear. He slid down the wall again and curled up into himself, not wanting to see them or them to see him.

He heard Hermione flee from the room, but he could still feel Draco's presence in there.

"Just go away, please," Harry whispered into his arms. Draco stood there for a few more seconds before abiding by Harry's wishes and exiting the room as well.

Harry buried his head in his arms and breathed heavily. He couldn't believe he had done that to his friends; an intense insanity, fear and anger had taken over his body. He would never hurt Hermione or Draco, but he could have. And now he was fully ashamed of himself.

Looking up, he saw the mess he made and bit his lips, trying not to cry again. Getting up, he crawled over to where the object had crashed and shattered. Reaching for it, he sweeped the fragments of glass away from it and picked up the piece of paper. It was that photo of him and Hermione she always kept on her dresser. Tracing Hermione's face with his finger, he pressed it to his chest and crawled back over to his corner with one arm. Sitting back down, he looked at the photo again. A few stray tears slid down his face and splashed onto the picture.

'I can't do anything right,' he thought to himself.

* * *

After that he spent most of his days holed up in Hermione's room, leaving only to use the restroom on occasion. He always kept the photo with him as a sort of comfort and security. Hermione and the Grangers came in to check on him often but he had not seen Draco much since that day.

He spent his time wallowing in anguish and hating himself for killing his uncle and treating his friends so cruelly. He couldn't face the world anymore. School was a distant concern and dancing was a thing of the past.

"Please come to practice with me," Hermione had begged once, "You don't have to do anything. Just come, please! Everyone wants to see you. They're all so worried." Her heart was breaking and he could hear it in her voice.

He shook his head.

"I'll never dance again," he whispered to her. She was crushed but she didn't bother him about it again. He couldn't bear the thought of dancing, or anything to do with his former passion. He had lost the will, the fire. He had no reason to dance; no business to participate in such an activity. His uncle was dead and it was his fault.

His physical wounds continued to heal but his mind was rapidly falling into darkness day by day. He knew everyone in the house could hear his cries in the middle of the night and they were all unsure of what to do anymore.

On the sixth day, he found himself unable to sit in the dark anymore. Standing up, he walked from the dark room. The hallway floor was cold against his bare feet and the empty silence pressed against his ears heavily. He hadn't been keeping much track of time but he guessed that it was near two in the morning. Ghosting down the hall, he went into the living room. Hermione was there, sleeping on the sofa. Again that guilt came washing over him. She must've wanted to leave him to himself and decided to sleep out there instead.

Taking his eyes away from her, he walked past the sofa and sat down in front of the Christmas tree. It was fully decorated, its lights softly twinkling in the dark. He watched it with a sort of sadness. Had it been as long as it seemed since they had gotten that tree? Christmas was just around the corner but it seemed so distant, so faded, like it didn't matter anymore.

His eyes caught the ornaments hanging from the branches of the tree. There was the ballerina, the Hawaiian Santa, and the Fish with the Santa hat. There were also new ornaments: a framed picture of Ron, McKinley and Draco had been added to the tree, right next to the ones of Hermione and Harry. His eyes focused on them as they dangled and twirled around slightly. Everyone was smiling and happy, such picture-perfect moments.

Sniffling and wiping tears away from his cheeks, he turned his head. Did he deserve this? The Grangers' were loving and caring; they gave him so many things just wanting to make him happy. Had he been selfish all these years? He had been hiding out with the Grangers', finding happiness there while his uncle continued to live in despair and madness. He should have done more, he thought angrily. He could've stopped it, he knew. It was his entire goddamn fault.

"Harry?" It was a soft whisper in the dark. He heard Hermione shifting on the sofa, looking at him. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine, Hermione," he said quietly. He was too guilt-ridden to look at her. There was the rustling of blankets and then the patter of Hermione's feet on the floor. The next thing he knew, she was standing next to him. She was breathing softly as she looked down at him anxiously. He fidgeted under her.

"May I sit next to you?"

He nodded, feeling odd. Never before had Hermione had to ask permission to sit next to him. What had he done to their friendship?

"I'm so worried about you," she said as she reached up, hesitating a moment, before brushing hair away from his face. "We all are."

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," Harry said, his chin trembling again. "I hate myself so much right now."

"Don't. It's not your fault."

Harry did not answer, but merely turned his head towards the tree again. There was a lapse in their conversation, neither knowing what to do or say. So they simply watched the lights; it had a calming effect on them.

"Oh," Hermione said suddenly. "I have something for you." She got up and hurried over to her bag. "I wanted to give it to you earlier, but I wasn't sure if I should."

She came back over and kneeled down next to him. Smiling, she pressed something into his hands. Feeling something cold and smooth in his palm, he opened his fingers and looked down.

He almost didn't believe his eyes for a moment. In his palm was something he never thought he'd see again. It was his mother's necklace; its delicate chain and angel pendant were glistening, practically glowing in the lighting.

"What…how?" he stuttered for a moment, looking up at his friend, "How did you get this?"

"Well, we were allowed to get your things from your old house. I found it in the back room in a box. I hadn't even noticed you'd lost it in the first place."

Harry felt tears welling up again, this time not in grief but in overwhelming relief. He looked up at her for a split second before throwing himself onto her. He wrapped his arms around her neck and sobbed into her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry!" he choked out, "I didn't mean for this to happen." Hermione held him close and shushed him.

"It's alright; it's all going to be alright."

When they broke apart, Hermione put the necklace on him. That familiar weight settled on his chest again and he felt some of that hole being filled. They fell into another silence as Harry stared at the angel pendant for a long time. He could feel the mood change once again, however.

"They want you to see a professional, you know," Hermione said. Harry grasped his necklace and nodded. "They've been talking about it and…I mean I can try to talk them out of it if you don't want to but…"

"I'll go," Harry said. He didn't know what made him say it but he knew that the words had formed on his tongue before he even thought about it.

"You will?" she sounded very surprised.

"Yes, it's my fault everyone's so worried and now it's my turn to do something about it."

"Aren't you afraid?"

"Terrified." Hermione looked at him with a soft sadness and helped him stand up. They hugged one more time, whispering promises and apologies to each other before heading off to bed. And for the first time in what seemed a very long time, they slept in the same bed again. It didn't seem quite so empty that way.

* * *

Draco sat on his house steps and watched as people walked by. The only thing on his mind was Harry. He felt angry at the boy for breaking down like that. It was Harry, the Harry who always seemed so strong and sure, who had turned into nothing but an insane, twisted shadow of his former self. And he hated him for that.

He hadn't visited after the day of Harry's seemingly mental breakdown. He didn't feel like having more things chucked at him. What could he do if Harry didn't want his help? It wasn't his fault, after all. He didn't expect to see him again for a long time.

It was a surprise, therefore, when he saw Hermione walking down his street towards his house. His eyes followed her, while he wondered what she was doing here, until she was right in front of him.

"Hello, Draco," Hermione greeted.

"What do you want, Hermione?"

"I've come here about Harry."

"And?"

She pursed her lips at his flippant attitude. He didn't care. He was hurt by Harry's actions.

"And? And he needs you, you complete ass," Hermione said, daring him with her eyes.

Draco looked away from her and pretended that he didn't care. But he could feel his gut turning at the very thought of Harry.

"Look," Hermione said, calming down, "I wouldn't be coming here if it wasn't important. He asked for you."

Draco brought his gaze back onto her and raised an eyebrow.

"He did?"

"Yes, so if your arrogant little brain wouldn't mind, perhaps you'd like to be there for him?"

Draco contemplated this for a little while and he wanted to say he would but something inside of him, some stubborn entity within him, would not allow him to do so.

"He doesn't need me. He made that very clear."

That must've done it because Hermione's self-control seemed to snap. She marched up the steps and grabbed him by the arm, yanking him onto his feet. Harry wasn't fooling before when he said that Hermione was a strong girl. He looked down at her with unconcerned eyes (even though he was just a little bit afraid that she'd beat him half to death…he'd never admit it though).

"Harry needs you and you're just going to sit here and tell me that you don't care? I don't believe that for one second. Now, you can either: get up and follow me voluntarily or I can beat you to a pulp first and _then _drag your sorry ass to him. Which is it going to be?"

Draco smirked at her, his respect for her suddenly increasing. He shrugged himself out of her grip and smoothed out his clothing.

"Okay, okay, keep your hair on. I'm coming."

"Good," she said and smiled.

* * *

The therapist's office was in a building across town. It was a one-story place with a lot of windows and expensive cars parked in its lot. There was a large stretch of brilliant green grass that reached out and went all around the building. The building sat on top of a hill so the green grass ended at the drop. The only other things that surrounded the building were tall palm trees that were lined up next to the outside walkway by the offices. As they walked by the building, Draco could see Harry looking up at the tall trees as they passed. They were so tall that it looked like eventually they'd shoot straight up through the sky. The large and strange leaves were swaying in the wind, making an eerie rustling sound.

Draco and Harry both walked over to the edge of the hill to take a look. Mrs. Granger went inside to confirm their appointment. Draco watched as Harry carefully walked as close to the edge as he could before looking down. The hill overlooked some of the city; the highways and some housing were visible from where they stood. They could even see mountains in the far, far off distance. While watching Harry, Draco could see no emotion. This bothered him to no end; Harry usually always expressed emotions in everything but now he seemed so blank. He wanted the old Harry back.

"Harry, Draco, come inside please," Mrs. Granger called from across the lawn. Draco looked back before returning to Harry. Harry was merely looking at him, waiting for him.

"Let's go," he said and Harry followed him back to the office building. Mrs. Granger smiled and allowed the boys to walk in ahead of her. They were inside some sort of waiting room; it had leather couches and armchairs next to potted plants. The tables were laden with magazines and newspapers while on the walls hung abstract paintings.

"Harry, please follow me," said a lady from a door to his left. She was a tall, black lady with light brown eyes and a gleaming white smile. Harry looked at Draco, signifying that he wanted him to come too. "He may come, if you'd like."

"I'll wait here for you, Harry," Mrs. Granger said and kissed him on the cheek for luck. Harry wasn't expressing many emotions but there was a faint tension that Draco could feel rolling off the other boy.

They followed the lady through a carpeted hallway. She led them into a medium-sized office near the back of the building. Inside were three more leather chairs, and a polished desk with a lamp and books on it. There was a bookcase and on the walls were framed certificates and diplomas. It was a typical office.

"Please, have a seat," she said to them. Draco led Harry over to one of the chairs and had him sit down before taking a seat for himself. "My name is Ms. Simmons." She took out a folder, a pen and a notebook before taking a seat in the third chair, which was facing opposite from them. She crossed her legs and smiled at them. Draco suddenly realized that her pearly white smile bothered him a bit.

"Before we start, may I ask what relationship you have with Harry?" She was questioning Draco.

"We're…we're uh friends," he said, not really sure how to explain exactly what kind of relationship he had with Harry was. It was confusing.

"Alright, now I understand that Harry has been through some traumatic experiences," she was looking through some papers, "Would you like to talk about it?" she was now aiming her questions at Harry.

Harry kept his eyes lowered and his fingers were absently picking at the arm of his chair.

Ms. Simmons sighed. "That's okay; we don't have to talk about that right now. We can talk about whatever you want."

Harry made no sign as to whether or not he heard her. Draco was wondering if Harry was even paying attention. He seemed a million miles away. He sure hoped he wasn't forcing himself back into his mind again.

"Hmm. Well, why don't you tell me about your friend, Harry? How did you two meet?"

Harry again did not answer. He seemed lost in his own world, protecting himself from the things he knew would eventually come to light in this very room.

"Well then, we'll just let your friend answer, okay?" Harry merely stared at the carpet.

"We met at school," Draco said, decidedly leaving out a lot of other information pertaining to their friendship.

"Harry seems to trust you enough to let you in here," Ms. Simmons said as she looked between the two of them. "Isn't that right?"

The woman was obviously trying to get some kind of answer from Harry, whether it was verbal or otherwise. But Harry was just not responding. It was like last week all over again. Why did Harry choose to close up now?

"Don't be afraid to talk to me, Harry," she said, "I know that seeing your uncle kill himself is quite a shock and-."

"He didn't kill himself!" Harry yelled, his hands now squeezing the armrest, "I killed him. Don't you understand that?"

Ms. Simmons shared a look with Draco before returning her gaze to Harry.

"I know it must feel that way, but it's not true. You need to realize that."

"Just…just stay out of it!" Harry said quietly. "It's none of your business, anyway."

"That's fine, if you feel that way. What would you rather talk about?"

Harry turned his head away and glared out the window. Draco wondered what he was thinking about: his uncle's death, most likely. Reaching out, he grabbed the other's hand and squeezed it in reassurance. The only thing that told Draco that Harry understood was the slightest twitch of the boy's fingers under his hand.

"Let's talk about your hobbies, Harry," Ms. Simmons pushed on. "Do you have anything you really like to do?"

Harry pursed his lips and his eyes hardened. Obviously the question hit a sore spot.

"He…um, used to dance," Draco answered.

"Used to?"

"Well, he doesn't really anymore."

"Why is that, Harry?"

"Because dancing is foolish," Harry said in a hoarse whisper. Draco's eyes widened at this; what made Harry this way? Why was he so different now?

"Do you say that because you feel guilty?" Ms. Simmons asked.

Draco watched Harry carefully. His jaw was twitching and his eyes were getting glossy, as if he was about to cry again. Sure enough, he could see tears brimming up.

"He hated my dancing," Harry gulped, "And maybe if I had listened to him, he wouldn't have hated me so much and…and…this wouldn't have…" He gasped and choked back a sob. Ms. Simmons reached over and handed him a tissue. He took it and twisted it around in his hands.

Harry just sat there and tore up the little piece of tissue as he stared off into space, tears slipping down his cheeks. After that, he refused to answer any more questions that pertained to his uncle or what had happened. He had completely closed up. Ms. Simmons try to get him to answer simple questions such as those about school, work, friends, the Grangers and anything else that seemed relatively harmless. Harry only nodded or gave whispered "yes" or "no" answers.

"Can I leave now?" Harry asked after a few more minutes. Draco knew they still had about thirty-five minutes left of session time. Perhaps this really was too much of a strain on Harry.

"If you want to," Ms. Simmons said and nodded. Harry quickly stood up and left the room, leaving Draco to follow closely behind.

When they got back out to the waiting room, Mrs. Granger was sitting on one of the seats, reading a magazine.

"How did it go?" she asked as she stood up. Harry just simply walked from the room, without a word. She sent a questioning glance at Draco, who just shrugged and quickly followed Harry out the door. Looking around, he couldn't spot him at first but then he noticed the small figure across the lawn. Harry was standing at the edge of the hill again. Even with a heavy cast on one arm, he still managed to have both of them wrapped protectively around his middle.

Draco took tentative steps across the rippling grass toward Harry. He wasn't sure what Harry was thinking or what he wanted, but he remembered Hermione said that he needed him and he was going to try to be there. Harry, after all, was there for him during his tough times.

He walked up behind the boy, letting his presence be known. Harry's hair was ruffling in the wind and his stare was far off. Not really thinking about it, Draco wrapped his arms around Harry from behind – just as Harry had done for him so long ago – and kissed his salty, wet cheek. Harry didn't tense or acknowledge Draco's presence in any way but deep down, Draco knew that Harry appreciated it.

They stood there for a little while, not really caring as to whether or not someone would see them. Harry needed him there and he'd be damned if he let someone interrupt their moment.

"Let's go, okay?" Draco whispered and turned Harry around so they were facing each other. He gave a few small kisses on the boy's lips. They were soft and lovely as always, even if Harry didn't return the favor. He wrapped his arm around his boney shoulders and led him over to where Mrs. Granger was standing. The woman was turned away, seemingly admiring someone's car, even though Draco knew she was just being respectful.

Draco briefly wondered if the Grangers' knew about his and Harry's relationship. Perhaps she had just thought it was a moment between two friends and didn't want to intrude. Either way, he was thankful of her.

"All ready?" she asked them as they approached her. Draco nodded and smiled, answering for both him and Harry.

"Then let's be off. Hermione will start panicking if we aren't back very soon."

On the way back to the Granger house, Draco kept looking at Harry. There was Harry and then everything zooming past the window behind him. It was definitely as if he was in a whole other world.

Can things go back to the way they used to be? Draco kept thinking to himself the whole home. Was Harry unfixable? Would he wallow in guilty feelings for the rest of his life? Or would he actually find the strength within himself to realize that his uncle's death was not his fault? Draco sincerely hoped it was the latter.

'For all our sakes.'

* * *

Author's Note: I can't believe how rapidly this story is coming to a close. I have just a few more things that need to be sorted out in the story before it can end. So three chapters at most left. I think I might be a little sad about that. But I do have like three other stories I need to work on.

Anyway, thank you for all of your reviews. I'll get to answering all of them as soon as I can.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Draco wiped his hands free of grease and set the tools down in order. When he was done, he breathed in the musty, greasy smell of the mechanics shop. It seemed so long ago that he had gotten his job here, just looking to make some money and help pay to take care of his mother. And now, things had changed so much. His mother was dead, his gang had turned their backs on him, and his boyfriend was a mental mess.

"What's on your mind, kid?" Dave asked as he walked into the garage, wearing his usual greasy jumpsuit and black cap.

"What isn't on my mind?" Draco mumbled as he opened one of the many tool drawers, and pulled out a screw driver for Dave.

"Well, do you want to talk about it?"

"This is way too complicated for just a simple conversation in a mechanics garage," Draco answered.

"Nothing is too complicated to talk about in a mechanics garage," Dave said as he turned to the young man and gave him one of those penetrating stares.

"You don't understand."

"Try me."

Draco leaned back against one of the tool cabinets and crossed his arms over his chest. He focused on a grease spot on the concrete floor for a while. Dave was a great guy, he knew this, but it wasn't like they were on close terms. He wasn't even sure if Dave counted as a friend or not. How could he possibly understand everything that was happening?

"Well…" Draco trailed off, not really sure what to say or how to begin. How do you begin the story of your life?

"Go on, you got nothin' to be afraid of here," Dave encouraged.

Was that true? Did he really have nothing to be afraid of? Then how come an intense fear was filling his heart and mind every second he stood there? What would Dave really think? Think of the mess, all of the problems, the fact that he was gay and had a boyfriend?

'Here goes nothing,' he thought before taking a big breath and releasing it.  
"I'm gay," was the first thing he blurted out. He wasn't sure exactly why that was the first thing he said; he figured it was the one thing he was most afraid Dave would reject him for.

"I suppose that would explain a lot," was Dave's reply. Draco looked at him oddly.

"What do you mean?"

"You never expressed in any interest in the gorgeous women who come to get their cars checked out. That and you've never talked about a girlfriend. For awhile there I was just thinking you had no sexuality whatsoever."

"It's kind of new to me as well," Draco said. Dave laughed.

"If that's what's been bothering you, then you've got nothing to worry about here."

"There are…other things, as well."

"Go on, shoot."

Draco cocked his eyebrow at him.

"Okay…well ever since my mother's death, life has seemingly taken a downhill turn."

"It does seem like that for awhile," Dave nodded, waving his hand for Draco to continue.

"Just recently, my…uh, boyfriend…" Draco couldn't get over the strangeness of calling Harry his boyfriend. It was what he was, but that didn't make it any less weird to say out loud. "He's been through a very difficult ordeal and I don't know what to do about it."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, well, see he's really messed up right now and I don't know how to act about it. I'm not very good at the whole "nice" thing and I have no idea how to comfort someone."

"Well, whatever your boyfriend is going through, I'm sure it's something he definitely wants you around for as he heals."

"Yeah, I know," Draco said lowly.

"Just be there for him the best way that you can. I don't think he expects you to give long, meaningful speeches about life or anything."

"Then what does he expect?"

"I don't know – maybe just a comforting presence, the knowledge that he has people who care, a hug or a kiss every once in awhile. These things go a long way. When the time comes, he'll let you know what he wants."

"But when will that time be?"

"That's up to him; he needs to decide whether or not he wants things to be fixed or to remain broken. Just give him time, you'll see."

"I guess you're right," Draco thought as he gazed down at his shoes. "It's just so hard."

"Well who said anything about things being easy," Dave said as he rustled Draco's hair and gave a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Like I said, just give it time." With that, he walked out of the garage to go deal with a customer who had just arrived.

Draco just stood there for a few more minutes, contemplating about the conversation he had just had with Dave. The man was probably right; he seemed wise enough to know what's going on. But time wasn't always an easy thing to give in such situations. What if they didn't have time?

Bob the cat jumped up onto the counter beside him and curled around his arms. His tail brushed against his hands. He looked down at the cat, who was in turn staring up at him with his lamp-like eyes.

"What do you think, Bob?" Draco asked as he reached down and scratched the feline behind the ears. Bob the cat purred and closed his eyes, obviously enjoying the treatment. "What should I do?"

Bob looked up at him with seemingly knowledgeable eyes, but that was probably just a trick that all cats played.

"Should I give him time or should I try to force things out of him?" Bob the cat merely pawed at his hands when he stopped scratching. Draco rolled his eyes and continued to pet the cat. Typical.

"I really do care for him, you know?" Draco told the cat absently, staring off into some unknown world.

"Meow," the cat replied, purring and licking Draco's fingers affectionately. Draco took that as an agreement.

--

Harry walked down the school hallway, eyes focused on the floor, hand clutching his bag tightly and mind blank. People were looking at him, whispering and pointing. They had heard rumors about what had happened to him and now every time he walked by a group of people, he could practically feel their eyes on him. He could catch snippets of what they were saying on occasion.

"I heard his uncle beat him up real bad."

"Think it's true?"

"Well, look at all those cuts and bruises."

"He could've just fell off his bike or something."

"Yeah, I bet he made it all up."

He ignored them, of course. It wasn't like he actually cared what those people believed. In a way, he wanted them to believe it hadn't really happened. That way, he wouldn't get disgusted or pitying looks from everyone. He wanted them to believe that it was all just a rumor.

It was suffocating being back with everyone in his school. He hadn't been around so many people in what seemed such a long time that it was overwhelming. Hermione had watched him like a hawk the first half of the day, but he told her that it was unnecessary.

On his way to his next class, he tripped over someone's leg and went tumbling to the ground. His bag fell off his shoulder, the flap flying open and his books spilling from it. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a shuddering breath.

'I will not cry,' he thought, 'I just fell. It's no big deal.'

People were looking, some laughing and others whispering. He didn't expect any help from them. A couple of tears leaked from his eyes. Why did everything set him off so easily?

But to his surprise, a boney hand reached out and helped him stand up.

"Come with me, Mr. Potter," Mr. Snape said as he held onto Harry's arm. Harry looked at him with surprise, put his bag back on his shoulder and followed the tall man to his classroom.

He opened the door for Harry and allowed him in first. It was empty and cold in the room; the windows were open but since it was such a cloudy day, barely any light was getting in. Mr. Snape flipped on the lights and motioned Harry over to his desk.

"Please sit down, Potter," Snape said. Harry did as he was told, but sat tensely wondering what Snape wanted with him. It wasn't like he broken any rules that day. Before sitting down, Snape dug through a drawer to his desk and pulled something out. He set it on the top of his desk and turned to look at Harry.

"I want to show you something, Harry," Mr. Snape said before sitting down. "I believe you are aware that your mother and I were friends a very long time ago."

Harry nodded, remembering when he had discovered that photograph. He had completely forgotten about it until just now.

"Your mother was a beautiful person," Snape said as he brushed his fingers over the thing he had gotten from his desk, "Both in soul and appearance."

Harry smiled, a clear picture of his young mother appearing in his mind.

"Not a day goes by that I don't miss her terribly." Harry looked up at him with surprise and sympathy.

"How did you know that she was my mother?" Harry asked curiously.

"Well, your eyes are a dead giveaway. They are exactly as your mother's were," Snape said, looking into Harry's eyes. "But I also knew your father; we weren't on close terms, per se, but I did know him. Your resemblance is uncanny."

Harry liked that he looked so much like his father. It sort of made him feel as if he was there with him. He admitted to himself that he thought about his mum more than his dad but he missed both of them equally, even if he had never really known them.

"Your mother and I drifted apart when she started dating James," Snape said, "And soon our friendship vanished. The last time I had seen her was the day you were born."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, fidgeting. Snape had known his mother more than he, so the loss must've affected him a hundred times more. Even though Harry had never really known the man, he felt a connection form at that moment. They both shared the same pain.

"I have heard rumors about your recent troubles," Snape said, folding his hands under his chin. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Why do you want to help me?" Harry asked.

"Because I see so much of your mother in you, and whenever you look at me, it's like it's really Lily. I'm sure she'd have wanted me to help you in any way I can."

"I wish I had known her more," Harry said, "my father too."

"Well, this I might be able to help with a little," Snape said. Harry looked at him with curiosity. "It may not be much, but I believe you will like it."

Harry watched as Snape picked up the book like object from earlier and held it in his hands. "I…I want you to have this."

Harry leaned forward and took the book with his good hand. He settled back and laid it in his lap. He looked up at Snape again, question in his eyes.

"That is a photo album, one I had always kept with me. It's full of photos of your mother, and your father too, as well as a few of their friends."

With trembling hands, Harry pulled the heavy book open. His eyes widened and stung a bit as he looked down. Inside were pictures of his mother in many different poses: she was sitting on a swing, smiling at the camera or holding a lily flower while standing against the blue sky. The next page had some of his mother and Snape as children, and a few as teenagers-young adults.

Another couple of pages showed his father, who looked just like him he found, with his mother. Though there were only about five with his father in them.

When he came across a few photos with people he didn't recognize, he frowned and looked up at Snape. Snape had been watching him quietly the whole time, obviously waiting for Harry to finish.

"Who are these people?" Harry asked as he pointed at them.

"That," Snape said, indicating to man who was standing next to James and Lily, "was your father's best friend, Sirius Black."

"Where is he now?"

"Soon after your parents died, Sirius went a bit insane. He committed a few crimes and spent numerous years in prison. Not long after his release, he killed himself by jumping off a high bridge."

Harry blinked a few times and felt his heart tear apart. His parents' death obviously affected more people than he originally thought.

"What about these two people?" Harry asked, trying to change the subject. He pointed at a sandy-haired man and a smaller man in another photo. Lily had her arms around both of them as they took a group photo.

"Well, the sandy-haired fellow is Remus Lupin. I was not on close terms with him, but I heard he took a teaching job in France and lives as a recluse for the most part. I haven't heard anything else since." Harry wished he could find the man and talk to him. But he knew that it was impossible. Besides, he didn't want to dig up a haunted past.

"The other is Peter Pettigrew. I knew him as kind of the loser in the group, but still loyal in any case. He died in a train crash three years after your parents' death."

Harry's eyes fluttered closed and he tried not to imagine the horrible deaths of Sirius and Peter. Why had so much bad happened? He wished he could've known them better; they could've told him so many things about his parents.

"I know this is a lot to take in, Harry, but I wanted to give you this album so you may know the happy lives your parents lived. And know that they loved you very much." Harry nodded, eyes still closed. Tears spilled again and they splashed on his hands as they clutched the photograph album.

"Thank you so much for this," Harry said after opening his eyes. Snape got up from behind his desk and walked over to Harry. He placed a hand on his shoulder and looked down at him.

"I'm sorry I had always seemed rather cold towards you," Snape said. "I had felt if I'd distance myself from you, then maybe I wouldn't have to deal with it. But seeing so much of your mother in you has drawn me to you."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said with a watery smile.

"Don't thank me. I have done nothing." But Harry was thankful nonetheless.

"You better get off to your classes. I'm afraid otherwise I'd have to give you detention."

Harry chuckled and got up, album under his arm. When he looked back, he saw Snape sitting at his desk again, hands linked under his chin, staring out the window. He knew he was thinking about his mother. He hoped that Snape found peace with his mother's death. He wasn't such a bad man, after all.

--

Harry met Ron and Hermione outside after school. He saw them sitting on top of Ron's hood, holding hands as they talked. Harry couldn't help but wonder about this. When they saw Harry, they broke apart and smiled at him.

"How's it going, mate?" Ron asked as he hopped off the truck and helped Hermione down.

Harry just shrugged and placed his stuff in the back. Ron had offered to take him to his next appointment with his therapist since Mr. and Mrs. Granger would be busy today.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

"I have to wait for Draco, he needs to come too."  
And so they waited, silently. Hermione was leaning against Ron, looking a bit tired but content. Harry mostly ignored them, thinking to himself most of the time. That sick feeling in his stomach was back and he pegged it as apprehension for the upcoming appointment.

Draco finally arrived a few minutes later. He walked onto the student parking lot with his hands in his pockets and cigarette placed between his lips.

"Hey," Ron said as Draco approached. Draco looked at him and nodded before taking the cigarette out of his mouth and blowing smoke. He tossed it to the ground and stepped on it with his foot.

"Hey," he replied.

"So, um, are we all gonna be piling in the truck together?" Hermione asked.

"Heck yeah," Ron said. "We're all in this together, right Harry?"

Harry just nodded absently, "Yeah."

It was the usual routine getting inside the car. Draco and Hermione squished into the passenger side while Harry climbed on top of them. He felt Draco's hands wrap around his waist as he settled in. He squeezed him to his chest and his hot breath was tickling his neck.

Harry was lost in the feeling of being so close to the boy he cared so much about. He felt something stirring within him but he couldn't quite place what it was.

--

The office was the same as it was last time. Not like Harry expected it to change or anything. The woman was the same as well, just in different clothing. She was still sitting in her chair, looking at him and analyzing his every movement. Draco was next to him again, supporting him through the whole thing. But Harry did not know what to say. He didn't want to say anything at all.

"Harry, we've talked about everything except the reason you're here. It's time to let it out."

Harry shook his head, feeling those tears again. Why was he so emotional all of a sudden? All he knew was that he wasn't ready.

"I know it hurts right now, but that pain will start easing if you just tell us something. Trust me, you'll feel better if you do."

He didn't trust her. He didn't trust himself at the moment. His heart was full to bursting with pain and his eyes were flooded with tears and his stomach was churning and bubbling with anxiety. He felt like he couldn't take it anymore.

Shaking all over, Harry looked over to Draco, who was looking at him with caring and concern. He nodded to Harry, squeezing his hand. This was his way of telling him that everything would be okay; just let it go.

And he did. He let out sob and soon he was blubbering like a lost child.

"I can't stand it anymore!" he cried out through the tears and gasps.

"Tell me, Harry; tell me so I can help you."

"He always hated me and I never knew why!" Harry wailed, all of his anguish rushing out of him like a giant wave.

"He always told me that it was my fault that my aunt died and that we lived so poorly. He said the world would be better off without me and I always believed him! It seemed so true, I believed him. Every single time." Harry covered his mouth with his hand and bent over in his chair. He was crying so hard that he thought he might actually shatter. He just cried into his hand as he felt Draco's hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles there.

After a few seconds Harry took his hand away from his mouth and continued to talk. He was still bent over in order to keep the sick feeling in his stomach at bay.

"I was the bane of his existence," he whispered to the floor, "he never failed to remind me of this every chance he got. At first it was just hard chores; clean this, clean that, do a good job and stay unpunished. But soon, everything I did was wrong and I was punished severely."

He used his palms to wipe a few tears away and sniffed.

"The beatings, they hurt at first but later I trained myself to leave my body and they stopped hurting so much afterwards."

"How did you do that, Harry?" Ms. Simmons asked.

"I would stare at the patterns on the wallpaper and make images in my mind out of them, or make up a story about some far off place and pretend I was there. They were always places with no pain and no hate or anger. They were good places."

"A form of self-defense," Ms. Simmons regarded.

"But he always found ways to make sure I knew…I knew that I was nothing but rubbish. And those words hurt more than a hit ever could."

"Your uncle was unwell, Harry," Ms. Simmons said, "He wanted to hurt you and attacked your weak spots. You must not believe his words any longer. You must free yourself from these shackles. You have that power, that ability. Use it."

Harry began rocking back and forth, trying not to let her words in. He was conflicted. Who should he believe?

"If you don't, then he wins. He wins. That's what he wanted. He placed this last burden on you to make sure you never forgot. Don't let him have that power over you anymore."

"No, no, he wouldn't lie like that," Harry said, still rocking, "What he told was the truth. I am nothing, nothing."

"No, Harry, listen to me. Not your uncle," Ms. Simmons continued. "If you don't want to listen to me, then at least listen to your friends. They all care about you so much and they don't want you to believe his lies."

"I…I can't," Harry said.

"Yes, you can. Just look deep down inside yourself and you will find that you don't really believe what he said. You'll see that you want to be free."

Harry closed his eyes, squeezed them tightly shut and breathed and rocked and sobbed. He tried to look at this place the woman was speaking of. He searched through the pain, the darkness, his uncle's words, and his past. Where was it? Where?

When Harry opened his eyes, he looked at Draco.

"I can't," he said and he fell on him. He broke down into another wave of tears. Draco merely held him there as Ms. Simmons watched. When, at last, he had cried himself dry his whole body shuddered involuntarily and the pain eased somewhat. He couldn't find that place yet and his uncle's words remained.

--

When the session ended, Harry just wanted to be out of there. He got up and left quickly, just as he had the last time. He saw Hermione and Ron in the waiting room but he quickly brushed past them.

"Harry?" they asked him but he pushed through the door and broke into a run. They called after him, yelling for him to come back but he did not heed their calls. He wanted to be free. He could hear footsteps behind him and he knew that it was Draco running after him. Draco wasn't calling but merely pursuing. This seemed so familiar.

The tears dried in the wind and his heart was thudding against his chest, from pain and stress. When he ran, he felt as if he was running away from his problems. It's hard to think about problematic things when all you're focused on is the quick breathing and the pumping of your legs.

It was a long run but he did not care. He wanted to fly away and maybe if he ran fast enough the wind would just pick him up and carry him off.

He came to the field on the edge of the city; the one he and Draco always seemed to come to when times got rough. He ran past the church, hearing the bell tolling loudly in his ears but yet seeming so far away. The dried grass became thicker and a little bit taller the further out he ran. When he felt he could go no more, he collapsed halfway out. He was on his stomach and breathing in the scent of the dirt. He rolled over onto his back and looked up at the sky. His chest was rising and falling rapidly.

He heard Draco's crunching footsteps as he approached and then stopped next to him. He was looking down at Harry, an unreadable expression on his face. Harry blinked and continued to stare at the sky.

"What can I do, Harry?" Draco asked him quietly, eyes focused on the boy lying on the ground. How could Harry answer that question?

Harry reached an arm up at Draco, his hand planted against the sky as if reaching up to grab it. But he was really looking for Draco. Draco took a step closer and grabbed Harry's hand. He bent down to his knees and placed the hand on his cheek.

"What is it that you want?" he asked softly as he nuzzled into Harry's hand.

Harry couldn't get words to form, so instead he let his hands do the talking. He caressed Draco's cheek and grabbed at his shirt and shoulders and hair. He pulled him down on top of him and brought his mouth to his. His hands scratched down his back and touched every part of him that he could. He just needed to feel someone close.

Draco placed his hands on either side of Harry's head for support and looked down at him.

"Is this what you want?" Draco asked him and Harry nodded. They kissed again, a heavy, passionate kiss that stole the breath from Harry's lungs. He fisted his hands in Draco's shirt and arched up into him.

It seemed, even without words, that Draco knew what it was that Harry was asking for. He was grateful of it because he did not want to talk. Words were meaningless in moments such as these.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut when he felt his clothes being pulled from his body. His flesh met cold air and it sent goosebumps and shivers all through him. But Draco's touches were warm and soft. And he knew that he was trembling so badly under the other, violent shaking and odd twitches. But he could not control it. When his naked body settled back against the cold earth, he opened his eyes again. He did not focus them on Draco but his attention was on the feel of him.

He knew Draco had been discarded of clothing as well when he felt naked skin against his own. They were both sweating despite the chilly wind pressing up against them. But Harry did not think about it. He did not think about how wrong this might be or how rash it was. Thinking didn't help so he just focused on his surroundings.

When Draco's fingers were inside of him, stretching him and filling him he merely looked up at the sky. The clouds rolled across it, occasionally letting the sun through. The warm rays shone down on him for a few moments before the clouds rolled in front of it again, casting a dark shadow over the world.

He gasped when the fingers were removed but a kiss was placed on his wet cheeks, calming him and shushing him. An arm wrapped around his waist again and he planted both of his feet on the ground, legs spread.

Then he was distinctly aware of something sliding into him and his toes curled and his fingers dug into the dirt. Another sob escaped his mouth and he turned his head to the side. He stared out into the distance as he felt Draco inside of him.

When the movements started, he focused his attention back onto Draco. The boy's cheeks were flushed and his breathing was hard. Harry smiled and more tears spilled from his eyes. They felt warm against his frozen cheeks and they dripped into his ears.

Harry brought an arm up over his eyes and gasped as Draco moved inside of him. It was more painful than he could've imagined but this was a pain that he didn't want to block out. It was pain out of love.

He couldn't help but laugh a little, even as he continued to cry. The grass tickled his bare feet and back, and he even felt a bug scuttle across his toe. The scent of winter and grass and dirt filled his nose and the wind ruffled his hair and the grass around him. It sent a sigh throughout the field and the trees groaned with it.

Draco was panting in his ear now, and it warmed Harry up. He brought his hands up and cupped Draco's cheeks and turned his face so they could look into each other's eyes.

Harry lifted himself up a little and kissed Draco on the lips and the cheek and bit his ear. His nails scratched down his back and his heels dug into the ground as he felt something build up inside of him. He placed his hands on Draco's biceps and squeezed them, trying to ease some of the pain and hotness that was filling him.

It was like a swirl of colors, this feeling, because every sense, every little thing sent something new inside of him. Pain, sadness, love, comfort, fear, heat, cold; everything was coming together all at once.

When he felt the release inside of him, it sent shivers up and down his spine. It was warm and wet, a completely new feeling in a new place. And at last he let his own build up flow from his body; as he did so he arched his back and sighed up into the sky above. With the sigh it was like his pain and fear came up from his body and flew away in the wind.

Draco collapsed onto him and Harry held him, his legs shaking uncontrollably and his hands still clutching tightly at the other. They were both covered in sweat and Harry kissed away some of it that had collected on Draco's forehead.

The wind was still cold, and his body was aching, and the tears were still coming but now he felt lighter. This was his special secret that only he and Draco knew about. He gazed up at the sky again. And he smiled.

* * *

Author's note: Just two more chapters to go. I hope I wrote the last scene well enough. I'm not too good with those particular types of scenes so it's likely that I botched it all up. Let me know what you think.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

In the back of the Granger house was a medium-sized room that had, for the past years, been used as nothing but a simple storage place. Before, it had been piled with boxes, old broken chairs or tables and toys that had gotten worn or useless. But it had been cleared out and if you looked inside, you would see the now gleaming hardwood floors, the pale green walls and the single window that looked out onto the back streets behind the house. In it was a single-sized bed with clean white sheets, a thick white comforter and one white pillow. On the window were simple white curtains to match the bedspreads. It was a seemingly plain room, with nothing else but a dresser and an old wooden chair.

On the chair was a simple boy who didn't feel quite so simple anymore. The darkness lingered in his heart, attaching itself to his heart like a plague. He'd sit in the chair every day, hardly moving and simply staring out of the window. During the long, lonely nights the moonlight would flood through the window, creeping across the wooden floors and casting a glow on the boy's pale white skin.

Things should have gotten better for the boy; he had everything he had once wished for: family, friends, a home, a lover and some security. But it was not that way for him anymore. When the Granger's gave him his new room, he stared at it for the longest time before sitting himself down in the chair in front of the window. He didn't cry anymore, instead he kept it inside of himself as a constant reminder of his wrongdoing. He found tears to be a way to release pain but he decided that he deserved that pain.

Sometimes the rain came and he was the first one to see it. Some days it was light, soft and gentle, an innocent pitter-patter against his window. Other days it was hard and fierce, lashing at his window as if trying to get to him. And he'd watch it as it beat against the glass pane until the early morning hours. Sleep had become a thing of the past; in sleep lay dreams and in dreams laid haunted memories. No more did he want to sleep and see his uncle's death over and over again, playing in his mind like a horror film.

On the silent nights when the sky was at peace, he opened his window and let the wintry wind flutter his curtains and wrap around him. And he'd just close his tired itching eyes and breathe it in like his life depended on it.

When the sun rose and the world began to wake, he was always distinctly aware of the door creaking open and the shadow of another spilling across his floor. He didn't have to turn his head to know who it was or understand what they wanted. It was the same thing everyday.

"Come to breakfast, Harry," she'd say every morning. But when he didn't get up or make an acknowledgement she just left the room as quietly as she came in. She always came back though.

"Come to school, Harry," she'd say. She was met with the same response as always. And she left again. It was mostly silent after she left on those days. No one bothered him and he just sat there and continued to stare out the window. Cars rumbled in the distance, stereos blared from next door, babies cried, children laugh and the world continued to go round.

"Come to practice, Harry," she always says when she gets home. She says this every day in an attempt to get him to come out again, to be her friend again. No more, he always thought to himself when this came about. No more heartache, no more guilt, no more dancing.

When the winter holidays came around, she visited his room less often. Perhaps she was staring to give up or perhaps she just wanted to take a break for herself. He didn't expect her to want to deal with him every day. Besides, he preferred the quiet.

On the night of Christmas Eve, the first snow fell. He had been staring out his window as usual when the first soft and delicate flakes floated down from the sky. It was a bit of a shock at first and stirred him from his stupor. It was interesting the way they fell from the sky; swirling around each other, easily swayed by the wind…it was like a dance. They were pure white against the dark black-blue sky and opened his eyes for the first time in days.

He found he did not experience the snow the way he wanted to; staring form behind a wall of glass seemed so separated, so surreal. He was there and the world was out there. For this night, the first of many nights, he wanted to be a part of it.

And so, with stiff and sore muscles, he stood from his little wooden chair and walked from his plain little room. He did not disturb the peaceful sleepers, who were probably dreaming of the joyful Christmas to come in the morning.

Opening the door to the house, he was met with a shock of cold, cold wind and a flurry of snowflakes. They had already begun to blanket the ground, covering it with pure white snow, untouched by man.

Stepping down from the stone-cold steps, he carefully placed his bare foot onto the snow-covered ground. It sent a chill up his whole body and his mind told him to go back inside. Not heeding to his mind's demands, he placed both feet into the snow. It crunched under his feet and shifted – the first footprint. Walking out into the street, he was aware that his feet were turning red and numb from the exposure to the extreme cold. But even still he continued to walk until he was in the middle of the road.

Bending his head backwards, he looked straight up at the sky. Spirals of snow fell onto him, clinging to his eyelashes and lips. He held out his hands and let the flakes fall into his palms. He'd watch them until they melted, even though they were always replaced by new ones.

Blinking with snow-covered eyelashes, he lowered his head and looked down at his feet. He could barely feel them anymore, but then why did it make him feel more alive than ever? Wiggling his toes, he lifted his feet and drew a circle in the snow with his toe. It was so soft and so cold.

He turned his head skyward again and reached his hands up, slowly. He opened his palms and fingers and stretched for the sky. He wanted to go there, where the snow was born and the stars lived and where God dwelled. Take me away, he thought to it and snatched at it, closing his hands into a fist.

But he was still there. The snow was still falling, the streets were still empty and his feet were still cold. So, so cold.

--

He woke up the next morning in his bed, warm but with a heavy feeling in his head. After spending what could have been hours outside in the snow, Mr. Granger came out and found him. The snow was up to Harry's ankles and he was just standing there, staring at seemingly nothing. He pulled Harry by the arm, coaxing him back into the house, telling him how foolish and dangerous it was to stand barefoot in the snow for an extended period of time.

The white comforter was drawn up over his shoulders and he had it bunched up to his chest. He looked around the almost-empty room. His chair was still next the window, but the window was closed and the curtains drawn. Silent, dark shadows played across the floor and he watched them curiously. He remembered, from so long ago, when he was a child that he used to play with his shadows. He'd dance around and watch his shadow duplicate the moves perfectly against the wall. Sometimes he had reached out to the shadow to touch it, to see what it felt like. But now he understood that shadows weren't living things and they didn't really dance.

He heard people moving about around in the hallways and he wondered if they were going to come to get him. In a way, he really didn't want them to. His feet were still cold and he didn't feel too well. But it was Christmas and that was a day for family.

After about another thirty minutes of waiting, no one came to get him. They probably wanted to let him sleep in or something. Knowing that he wouldn't be able to get anymore sleep than he already had, he pushed the covers from his body and got up from the brand-new bed. He put a pair of warm, thick socks on his feet but even that didn't make the cold feeling go away.

He walked out into the entrance to the living room, sort of hiding behind the wall as to not let anyone see him. Hermione, and Mr. and Mrs. Granger were all sitting on the sofa, sipping hot cocoa while talking and laughing joyously. McKinley was sleeping inside of his bassinet, making soft baby noises. He smiled faintly at seeing this and it sent a warm feeling into his stomach and heart. He made his presence known by shuffling further into the room. The occupants looked up at him at the same time, at first shocked at seeing the boy out of his room.

Harry felt a bit nervous, the way they were looking at him like that. Shame filled him up and he was thinking that coming out was a bad idea. But then their faces lit up with smiles and they welcomed him over.

"Harry! So good to see you up and about," Mrs. Granger said as she got up and gave him a hug. She pulled away and looked at him oddly, "You feel a bit cold. Do you need a blanket or something?"

"I'm fine."

"I am surprised you aren't sick, my boy," Mr. Granger replied.

"Oh yes, I heard about you wandering around outside in the freezing cold! What were you thinking?"

"Sorry to have caused trouble, Mrs. Granger," Harry said.

"Oh, what's the bother? As long as you're alright, then let's not get into it. It's Christmas!"

"Speaking of which, I do believe it is time to open some gifts, don't you think?"

"Yeah!" Hermione said and smiled. They all gathered around the Christmas tree, Mr. and Mrs. Granger on the sofa, and Harry and Hermione on the floor. Hermione passed out the shiny and brightly wrapped packages. When Harry's first gift was pressed into his hands, he suddenly felt terribly guilty.

Having been too lost in his problems, he had completely forgotten to buy gifts for everyone else. He suddenly felt completely selfish and horrible. His uncle's words of "You're a filthy, greedy freak" came ringing back into his mind. It was all so true.

"Harry, what's wrong? Aren't you going to open your gift?" Mrs. Granger asked as she watched the children. Harry shook his head, suddenly feeling like he was going to cry again. The tears didn't come but the feeling remained.

"I…I didn't get any of you any gifts," Harry said as he fingered the red ribbon wrapped around his present.

"Oh," Mrs. Granger said, "Don't worry about that! We understand, due to the circumstances."

Harry shook his head again and placed his gift back under the tree.

"I can't accept any of these, I don't deserve them." Freaks, freaks don't deserve gifts. That was why his uncle never gave him anything.

"Oh, but Harry, of course you can," Mrs. Granger said, getting quite worried again. But Harry, refusing to believe, just stumbled to his feet and ran back into his room. He shut the door behind him and leaned against it, chest heaving and mind reeling. After a moment, he sat back down in his chair, in the familiar place.

Why couldn't things just go back to normal? He always asked himself this. The day he had lost his virginity, he had thought that maybe he had found happiness again. But it really had just brought on a whole new mess of problems. He spent the entire night afterwards crying, feeling so conflicted over the whole mess. He thought it would help fix things; love fixed things, it was supposed to. Wasn't sex an act of love? Those stupid romance books had warped his mind and now he was just a mess again.

He hadn't told Hermione yet, and felt an intense fear every time he thought about it. What would she think of that? She'd call him rash, foolish and irresponsible of course.

He jiggled his leg in anxiousness and he pressed his hand to his stomach, feeling that sickness again. How did he get himself into these terrible situations? He was nothing but a screw up.

Harry knew that he was messing up the Grangers' lives. He was giving them too many things to worry about at once. They had their own family to worry about; they didn't need his problems included in as well.

'The world would be so much better off without me,' he thought solemnly.

--

Harry stayed in his room all Christmas morning and when the Grangers went out for the Christmas church service, Harry got up from his chair and went into the kitchen. He had made his mind up earlier. It had come to him as he looked at the cast on his broken wrist. His uncle had broken it just before he had killed himself. When you've got nothing left in the world, and everything seemed so poisoned and evil, there really was only one thing to do.

Opening up one of the many drawers, he pulled out one of the razor blades the Grangers' used to open packages. Looking at it, it seemed dull and lifeless but it was cold in his hands and with it came so many choices.

Walking back into his room, he licked his lips as he looked at it. If he decided to do this, there was no turning back. Turning to face the wall he pressed his head against it and brought the razor to his arm. He squeezed his eyes shut as his trembling hands let the blade hover over his arm. A thousand thoughts went through his mind as time seemed to freeze on him. Hermione, Draco, Ron, McKinley, Severus, Mr. and Mr. Granger, dancing, school, his uncle, his parents…everything, everything flooded through him and when it was finished, his eyes snapped open and he opened his fingers to let the blade fall free. He gasped and choked and breathed heavily as it cluttered to the ground, his mind spinning so fast it was making him dizzy.

Sliding to the ground next to the razor, he covered his forehead with his hand and continued to gasp. He just couldn't do it, he couldn't will himself. Perhaps he was just a chicken, afraid to take that last leap but for some reason he could not get himself to follow his uncle's path. The man had been lost and he took the coward's way out. Harry didn't know if he wanted to be exactly like him.

"Please," he said with his eyes closed. His nails dug into his forehead as he tried to grab onto anything, anything at all that would help his pain. "Please, what do I do?"

And then he laid himself down, flat on his stomach and breathed heavily through his nose. He felt his ribs expand and push against the hard floor. His palms lay lightly by his side and he looked at his hands. They were small, and ghostly white and though they looked so fragile, he realized what he could've just done with those hands.

'With these hands, I could take my life away,' he thought. But somehow it seemed so wrong, as if he was playing God by taking his own life.

'But what have I to live for?'

He wrapped his hands around his stomach and curled his knees to his chest. The sunlight was filtering through the crack in the curtains and Harry reached up to it. He felt the soft fabric brush against his fingers and knuckles but he moved past it and stretched to reach the sun. He wanted so badly to feel something, the warmth of the sun on his skin, anything…but he still felt cold.

--

He woke with a start at the sound of the front door slamming. He pushed himself from the floor, noticing that a puddle of saliva had formed where he slept. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he got up and went over to his door. Opening it a crack, he peeked out and saw that the Grangers' were back but Hermione seemed to be missing from the group. He wondered where she went.

Sighing, he opened the door and went out to greet the Grangers. He felt a bit awkward, seeing as how he had made his last exit.

He cleared his throat to gain their attention and they looked up at him.

"I…I'm uh sorry about earlier," he said, shifting nervously on his feet.

"Oh, don't worry about that! The stress must be getting to you."

"Yeah," Harry said, agreeing with her. It must've been stress.

"Do you want to open your gifts now? We saved them for you." Harry looked over to the tree and saw a pile of gifts still gleaming, waiting to be opened.

"Um, I guess so." He didn't really want to be rude, even though he still felt terribly guilty about not getting them anything. "Where's Hermione?"

"She just had to go run an errand for a bit. She said she'd be back later."

Harry scrunched up his eyebrows at this. What could Hermione possibly need to do on Christmas day?

--

"Ouch. Bloody watch it!" Hermione cried out as she clutched at her foot. "What did I say? Watch out for the feet!"

"Sorry, sorry," Draco said as he held up his hands in defense. He could hear Ron laughing loudly in the background.

"You better start paying attention," Hermione scolded, "Unless crippling him is your idea of romantic."

"Okay, look I've only done this once before. Give a guy a break," Draco mumbled.

"Yeah, Hermione, give him a break. It's not his fault your feet are kinda large." Hermione shot a glare at Ron. He wisely scooted back a few feet, looking anywhere but at Hermione. She pursed her lips and turned back to Draco.

"Okay, now let's try that again." She forced Draco into the proper position and, with a bit of awkwardness, they took each other's hands. He placed his other hand on her waist and hers on his shoulder.

"Now, if you want to lead properly, you need to take charge," Hermione told him.

"How can he do that when you're like a dancing beast always taking the lead, Hermione?" Ron asked. Hermione simply ignored him, but Draco noticed the slight narrowation of her eyes.

"Now, from the top," Hermione instructed and she nodded her head. Draco looked down at his feet and tried to take a step forward with the right foot.

"Don't look down," Hermione said, smacking his shoulder. "Always keep eye contact with your partner; it's more romantic that way."

"Yeah, and don't get any ideas about looking down her blouse, either," Ron called warningly.

"Will you shut up, Ron?" Hermione said as she snapped her head in his direction.

"Well, excuuuse me. Watching you dance with another guy isn't exactly how I like to spend Christmas day."

"Get used to it."

"Why, are we going to be doing this every Christmas?" Ron asked. Hermione rolled her eyes and turned back to Draco and started up again

"1, 2, 3," she repeated over and over, getting Draco used to the rhythm as they moved in a simple box step.

"I think you're getting the hang of it," Hermione praised as she moved onto more complex moves. She instructed him the ways of properly dipping a girl: the first time, Draco couldn't hold onto her well enough and dropped her flat on her back. Ron had howled with laugher while Hermione glared daggers at the both of them. Then came how to spin her and bring her back in the correct way: it took a couple of tries before he stopped bumping into her or losing her in the spin. And then last but most importantly, how to not step on her feet: this, of course, was something he remedied quite rapidly, lest he wished to feel the girl's wrath.

He was a quick learner; he caught on to some of the dance really well, even though Hermione had to often correct his posture, footing and keep him from looking at his feet. It felt particularly odd dancing with Hermione; she was a bit taller than Harry, a bit softer and more, well, feminine.

"You know what, I think you have it down well enough," Hermione said after the fiftieth time rehearsing. She broke apart from Draco, "Besides, it's getting kind of late."

"What do we do now?"

"Well, you and I are going to stay here and plan a little more," Hermione said, "While Ron here is going to go make a little stop by my house and get Harry."

"I'm on it!" Ron said, hopping up.

"Just get going," Hermione said. Ron saluted her and bounded out of the room enthusiastically.

"Why do I have a feeling he's going to crash into a pole on the way there?" Hermione asked as she watched him leave.

--

Harry helped Mrs. Granger pick up all of the discarded wrapping papers and ribbons. His pile of gifts was now unwrapped and lying in a pile on the sofa for him to put away later.

He had received a bunch of new clothes from Mr. and Mrs. Granger along with a disc player, a calendar for his room and a bunch of his favorite sweets. Hermione gave him a fine journal with a set of multi-colored pens, a deck of playing cards and, his absolute favorite, a silver locket with a picture of him and Hermione in it.

He had nearly choked up when he first opened the piece of jewelry. It was an oval shape and on the outside it had "Friends Forever" engraved on it. He definitely felt like crying just then. Hermione cared about him so much. Mrs. Granger had helped him put it on, and the weight added with that of his mother's necklace.

When he had finished helping her clean up the mess, he hauled his new clothes and other items into his bedroom. He neatly placed them inside his dresser drawers, relishing the feel of actually having things to call his. He put the journal in the same drawer in which he stored the photo album Severus had given him.

He headed back out into the living room afterwards, and just as he did so there was a knock on the front door. Mr. Granger went over to answer it.

"Hello, Mr. Granger," Ron called cheerfully as he walked in with an armful of packages. "Just bringing these gifts from the family over; hope I'm not intruding?"

"Not at all, come inside. We have gifts for your family as well. Just set those on the coffee table and I'll go get them for you."

"Sure thing, sir," Ron said and set them down as he was told.

"Hi, Harry, how're you?" he asked.

"Alright, I s'pose," Harry answered with a shrug of the shoulders. Though it wasn't very truthful; how do you tell a person that you went spiraling through a pit of despairing thoughts, caused everyone to worry about you by causing another commotion and tried to commit suicide all on the same day? Christmas day, no less.

"Good to hear. Anyway, uh, you got anything going on over here?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, are you planning anything for today?"

"Er, well, no not really. Why?"

"Here you go, Ron," Mr. Granger said as he came over with a few well-wrapped parcels and gave them to the boy.

"Thanks, anyway, do you mind if Harry comes with me?"

"Of course not. Take him! Have fun."

"Er, where exactly are we going?" Harry asked as he followed the other out the door.

"You'll see," Ron said in return.

"Why can't you just tell me?"

"Because I'm not supposed to."

"And why is that? Should I be nervous?"

"Yes, very."

"Well, that's comforting," Harry said as he sat in Ron's truck. It rumbled to life and turned out onto the street. Harry, for the life of him, couldn't think of what Ron was up to. He didn't seem like the type of person do get up to something unless someone put him up to it. Or was he really up to something? He seemed awful secretive.

Harry just blew air from his mouth and looked out the window. There weren't too many people on the snowy streets. In a few of the houses they passed by he could see people inside, having a good time around their Christmas tree. The few people who were outside were bundled up heavily and shoveling snow away from their walkways.

Shops all over the city were closed for the holiday, so the shopping district was eerily empty and the buildings dark except for the people who came to watch some of the holiday lights.

When they pulled up to the dance studio, Harry's stomach jolted.

"What are we doing here, Ron?" Harry asked in fear. He didn't want to be here. He suddenly felt like fleeing to some where far, far away.

"Don't worry, just come with me. I gotta show you something," Ron said but Harry looked at him dubiously. This was a trick, he just knew it.

They climbed out of the truck, shoes sloshing in the snow as they impacted with it. Slamming his door shut, Harry looked up at the old and familiar building. He couldn't believe he was there right now; it had been so long already.

"What do you need to show me?" Harry asked as he followed Ron through the glass door and up the narrow stairs. His heart was thudding against his chest painfully.

'I don't want to be here, I don't want to be here,' he thought over and over again. The walls on either side of the staircase seemed to close up on him as they continued to climb. The closer and closer they got to the top the more apprehension filled him.

When they made it to the landing, the first thing Harry noticed was that it was incredibly dark up there.

"Ron, why's it so dark?" when he received no answer, Harry's nervousness increased tenfold. "Ron?"

The next thing that happened was the sound of slow, beautiful music filling the entire place. He looked around, backing up a bit. And then his senses were flooded with light and he had to blink a few times before he could see properly again.

"Hermione?" Harry said in confusion as he saw the girl standing in a corner, now joined with Ron. "Draco?" The blond was standing in the middle of the room, looking entirely nervous but sure at the same time. Draco approached Harry and held out his hand. Harry looked at it, suddenly backing up and realizing what this all was about.

"N-no, no I can't," he said, looking up at Draco with fearful eyes. Thud, thud, thud, went his heart as it tried to break free from his chest.

"Yes, you can," he replied with soft eyes and he moved closer. Harry backed into the wall and realized he had no where else to go. He begged Draco with his eyes; please don't do this. I don't want to.

Eyes still set on Harry Draco placed his hand on the boy's hip and took the other one. Harry looked up at him, mouth open and eyes tearing up. He could not stop Draco from leading him to the middle of the floor. His knees were shaking and his body was trembling but that did not stop the slow movements of their bodies together. His mind was screaming in fear and guilt, but that did not stop Draco from leading them around the room so flawlessly, so lovingly that it broke Harry's heart.

"Relax," Draco whispered in his ear. Harry realized he was rigid, tense and moving as gracefully as a piece of wood. Slowly, slowly he allowed his muscles to relax and he moved closer to the other boy, so that they were almost pressed flat against each other.

When Draco twirled him, it was such an amazing feeling; suddenly, all of the anxiety fled from his mind and soul and he enjoyed the feeling of the air whipping around his body as he was quickly tucked back into Draco's arms.

He placed his hand on the boy's shoulder and looked up at him. They were still moving, in a peaceful rhythm, molding together as one body. And Harry almost sagged, collapsed at the moment as everything suddenly seemed so perfect. Before, he had felt too guilty to do what he enjoyed doing; his uncle had drilled in his mind that anything that made him happy was a sin, a horrible, horrible act of greed. But now his feet were once again gliding across the floor, so smoothly and elegantly as if he had never stopped in the first place. His body relished in the feel of doing what it always longed to do. His heart leapt with joy as he was held by the one person he truly loved. He rested his head on Draco's shoulder and let his eyes flutter closed. He was finally warm again.

And even though he knew he still had many problems he needed work out, which he realized he couldn't do on his own no matter how hard he tried, he would burn that bridge when he crossed it. And when everything wasn't suddenly alright and wonderful, one thing was for certain, he was at peace for the moment and…

Oh, how good it felt to dance again.

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Author's Note: This is technically the "last" chapter of this story. I have an epilogue which I plan to get out very soon. But who knows, I might make you wait.

I was so hoping to get to 500 reviews before this chapter, but oh well! I'm still thankful for all of your reviews.


	31. Epilogue

Epilogue

January 1st, 1997

He was standing on the edge of the cliff, looking down at the crashing waves of the ocean. The cold air swept by him and made his hair blow every which way, and there were a few snow flakes falling from the stormy sky. His clothes flapped around his body and one of his hands was clutching at the angel pendant on his chest. It was more than 100 feet down from where he was standing, but he tried to get as close to the edge as possible.

It was the first time he had ever seen the ocean and it was a glorious sight. On the horizon was a never ending stretch of water, seemingly disappearing off the edge of the earth. The sky ran along with it, giving it such an endless appearance that it took his breath away.

The frothing sea rolled and turned and roared and it was such a glorious thing that he couldn't keep his heart steady. The tall grass on the cliff was waving around his ankles, tickling his legs and rustling with the breeze. The trees that grew on the sides of the cliff bent and swayed and hovered over the ocean, as if looking down on it as well. He breathed through his nose and lifted his hands up into the air. If he concentrated hard enough to the wind and the sound of the ocean, it almost felt as if he was flying.

'I'm finally here, Mum,' Harry thought to himself as he closed his eyes and brought his hands down to hold the angel gently, rubbing it with his thumb. It had been a week since he and Draco decided to run away. The city-life was no longer their life; they had made that decision together. Harry couldn't stay there anymore; it was suffocating him, killing him.

_"Won't you change your mind, Harry?" Hermione asked him with tears in her eyes. They were standing at the city limits, snow falling all around them and the early morning sun rising behind them. "I don't want you to leave."_

_"I don't want to leave you either, Hermione," Harry said. "But this place, I can't stay here anymore. There are too many memories, I need a new start."_

_Hermione's chin trembled but she nodded her head in understanding. He reached out and grabbed her chin with his hand, wiping a few tears away with his thumb._

_"I got something for you," Harry told her. She looked up at him, tears brimming in her eyes. He dug in his pocket and pulled something out. He had looked all over the place for it, shopping at every shop until he found the right one. He grabbed Hermione's hand and placed a small silver ring on her finger._

_"It's a promise ring," Harry said, "My promise to you that we'll always be friends." Hermione looked at the ring: on it was a little heart and the words "Always with you" etched into it._

"_Oh, Harry!" Hermione wailed and threw herself onto Harry. She sobbed into his neck and squeezed him tight. He returned the favor vigorously, never wanting to let her go. But after a minute or two of crying and hugging, they had to part. Hermione backed away, looking at the ring while her body shook._

_Harry turned to Ron, who was standing by his and Hermione's bicycles. He was looking rather down as well._

_"Are you sure we can take your truck, Ron?" Harry asked him. He turned to look at Draco, who was leaning against Ron's truck, staring off into the sunrise. Ron had picked them up early that morning, before the sun had risen, loaded his and Hermione's bikes in the back and drove them to the edge of the city. That's where they had stopped to say their last goodbyes._

_"Yeah, take the old hunk of junk. I think it's about time I get a new one. But I'll have a time of it trying to explain to my mum where my car went."_

_"Thanks, Mate," Harry said and reached out to shake Ron's hand. Ron took it shook it lightly before bringing Harry into a bone-crushing hug. "Take care, will you?" he whispered in his ear. Harry nodded and smiled into his shoulder._

_"Now get going," Ron said as they broke apart. Harry nodded and ran over to the passenger side of the truck and opened the door._

_"Let's go, Draco," Harry said, not wanting to leave but not wanting to linger either. The sooner they left the better._

_"Bye Draco," Ron waved. Draco turned to the red-head and nodded his head before opening the driver's side and sliding in. The truck rumbled as the ignition started and they pulled out onto the road leading to the freeway. Harry turned around in his seat and watched as Hermione and Ron became smaller and smaller. He couldn't help the tears the leaked from his eyes._

_"Goodbye," he whispered before turning around and looking straight ahead._

They drove as far as they could, only making stops when it was needed. They headed straight for the mountains and into them. It had been so glorious when they were out of sight of the city; it was like a great weight had lifted from their shoulders.

"You ready to get going again?" Draco asked. Harry turned from the ocean and looked at the blond boy. He was leaning against the truck, smoking a cigarette. He looked so beautiful, gray eyes sparkling with life Harry had never seen before. He nodded and headed over to him; before he could walk over to his side, Draco grabbed his arm and pulled him into a loving kiss. With the ocean singing in the background and the snow falling into their hair, it had to be their best kiss yet.

Once they were back on the road, Harry looked down and opened the locket Hermione had given him. Inside was her picture and he knew he'd look at it often over the next years. He hadn't wanted to leave her behind but he knew she'd be fine. She'd continue dancing, complete school, go off to some university and make something of herself. Yes, she'd be just fine.

The Granger's would miss him for awhile but they'd invest themselves in their two real children, the memory of Harry eventually fading into the background.

As for Draco and Harry…well, Draco hadn't said much about when he left his home. All Harry knew was that Draco had grabbed his hidden stash of money and walked out the door. It left Harry to wonder if he and his father had their goodbyes or not. Draco and his father had a dark past together and it wasn't always easy to forgive; he was sure that deep down, they loved each other on some level. But to Draco, it hadn't been worth the effort.

And dancing? Well, he'd continue it; in the future, he could see himself dancing somewhere by the ocean with Draco watching him in the background. Yes, dancing with the waves and the seagulls, the sand between his toes and the salty ocean spray in his hair.

Heart fluttering and stomach bubbling with excitement, Harry turned his head to the other and watched as the boy concentrated on the road in front of him. Whatever it was that was in store for them, they'd just meet it head on. The truck had half a tank of petrol, the money in their pockets was diminishing by the day and everything they owned was miles behind them. They didn't know where they were going, exactly, or what they'd do when they got there but right now that wasn't very important.

With the mountains on their right, the ocean on their left, and the curving road ahead of them, he couldn't help but feel that this was their destiny.

They were free at last.

The End.

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Author's Note: Seven months, 31 chapters and 180,000 words and it's finally over. I think I might cry. I'm going to miss you guys a lot. Please, read my new story OR add me to my space. I want to keep in touch! My my space info is in my profile. For everyone who read the first version, did you think this one was better or worse? Thank you so much to everyone who read and double thank you to all my reviewers. Kisses.


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